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veinereastath · 2 years

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Tʜᴇ Cᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛᴇᴅ Cᴏᴜɴᴄɪʟ [Aʀᴛʜᴜʀ Hᴀʀʀᴏᴡ x (ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ?) Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ-sʜᴏᴛ]

Wᴏʀᴅs: 4237 Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Nᴏɴᴇ. Mʏ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴜᴍʙᴏ-ᴊᴜᴍʙᴏ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ.

Wʜʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ-ᴏғ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ᴀsᴋ? Iᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ sʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴ ᴏғ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ 3ʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ I ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ᴛᴏᴏ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜs. I ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʙʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴄʀᴜᴍʙs ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ.

Oᴋᴀʏ, I ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʙɪɢ ғᴀɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴏʀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇᴅ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ 3 ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪs ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ Eɴɴᴇᴀᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴏғ ɢᴏᴅs ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴜsʜᴀʙᴛɪs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴇᴛ Hᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ᴏᴜᴛ sᴏ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ. I sᴛɪʟʟ ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʟʏ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛᴇᴅ, ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ sᴏ ɢᴏᴅᴅᴀᴍɴ ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇᴛᴇɴᴛ, sᴏ I ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴘʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪs ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ-sʜᴏᴛ.

Aʟsᴏ, ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ 3ʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀᴇᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛᴇʀᴍs ᴏғ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀɴ ᴀᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ ᴏғ Aɴᴜʙɪs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ Hᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇɴ.

I ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ sᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ Hᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏʟʟ ᴜᴘ ʜɪs sʟᴇᴇᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜs ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ... Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ғɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ.

Sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs, ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏғʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ Eɴɢʟɪsʜ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ.

Aᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ AO3.

___________________________________

The interior of the Great Pyramid was exactly the same it used to be back when she was one of the avatars – before Anubis met the unfavory eyes of the rest of the Ennead and was condemned to the possible eternity spend as an ushabti. Sometimes she missed him – missed going back home only to see a huge, black jackal, ornamented with golden jewellery and other embellishments, randomly taking over her couch.

Anubis wasn't very talkative, and despite being seen as one of the most cold, he didn't seem to press her towards anything. She always felt his presence, seeing him in random places, observing, but rarely speaking to her. She accepted this silence as a somewhat comforting part of her life. Changing it to actual silence, forced upon her when Anubis was lost to stone, caused her quite a lot of weird, emotional discomfort. But she had to move on. She was thinking about trying to appeal herself to some other deity, offering her services as avatar once more – because why not? - but in the end that weird loyalty towards Anubis was what she settled on. It just felt wrong to change him to other god after those few years she was his eyes, his ears, and his voice.

Four years later she still held to that opinion. She never supposed she would be allowed to enter the secret Ennead chamber once more, after losing the connection with her former master, but this day was different. The circumstances were different, potentially dangerous. She got entangled in this mess along with Marc, Steven, Arthur and Khonshu, and she had to go with it.

Her eyes wandered around familiar corridors, and despite the dark occasion this meeting was called for, she still felt somehow comforted by the warm glow of the braziers and candles. She felt like she belonged here, the connection with mystical, ancient forces of Egypt stronger than anywhere else. But she snapped out of that memories, focusing on the task at hand. She looked at Marc – no, Steven – who temporarily came out to comment his excitement out loud. She smiled at that, not saying anything, instead assisting him – Marc, once more – with getting inside. He was moving with a hint of noticeable fatigue, and even though he was an exceptional merc, she still felt the need to be right by his side in case his strength suddenly decided to leave him. Layla couldn't be here, so she felt obliged to take care of her husband, as a true friend would in the time of need. She stood a few feet behind Marc. It just seemed proper – she was a witness, but not an avatar anymore, so technically she was on the border of being just a random person, not really important to The Ennead. She knew it will be mostly Marc – or, well, Khonshu – who will make his voice resonate in this chamber, so she decided to stay in the back until she will be asked to speak. She wasn't a saint, definitely, but she knew the value of respect and didn't want to anger the gods, event hough she was bitter over their judgment on Anubis – one that wasn't exactly fair, in her opinion. But it was not her decision to make, and her voice didn't matter on that account.

She could sense it's going to be a tough situation as soon as felt the familiar aura of gods entering the bodies of their avatars, with Khonshu being the last to do so. She couldn't see Marc, instead looking at his back, but she could swear that his unease was palpable in this moment. Most gods didn't push their boundaries, didn't abuse the bodies of their servants more than it was necessary, spoke slowly and calmly. Khonshu, however, was not one of them. As soon as he started to speak, she was fighting not to curl in herself, angered, powerful voice of the Moon Good vibrating through the chamber. The way he raised Marc's head and the muscles in his neck tensed, she could almost feel the pain and discomfort that came with it.

"I CALL FOR JUDGMENT AGAINST ARTHUR HARROW!"

She had to grit her teeth, the loudness of Khonshu making her agitated. Still, while the voice itself could be forgotten, the words – not so much. Hearing the name of Harrow made her take a deeper breath, as it always did. Why did he have such an effect of her, she wasn't sure. And yet, it made her come back to the memories from few years ago, when she was summoned for the Ennead gathering for the first time.

~ o ~

"In attendance: Osiris, Isis, Hathor, Amun, Horus, Khonshu, Maat, Tefnut, Bastet, and Anubis." She said, calmly and steadily. Well, not really her – God of the Dead spoke through her, and even though technically it was her voice, it were actually his words. "Let the 51st council of the Ennead begin, the cause being the judgment of Bastet."

The energy of Anubis was flowing through her body, cold and comforting at the same time. While being his avatar didn't really come with emotions akin to warmth, familiarity and kindness, he somehow offered security – a silent, unspoken truce. It was enough for her. After all, she agreed to his offer willingly, giving her life to service in his name.

She stood straight, offering Anubis' testimony, being caged somewhere deeper in her own mind, allowing the god to take full control. Her lips were his, and so were his eyes. She looked in the direction he wanted her to look, being a silent obsetver, even though technically her body was a participant of this meeting. It was a strange sensation, but she supposed she will get used to it. She had to. These councils didn't seem to be a common occurence, summoned maybe once in a few years, but she was sure it wouldn't be her last one.

Her eyes travelled slightly to the right, to the opposite side of the chamber, where Khonshu stood up and started to speak. She could feel Anubis' irritation as soon as Moon Knight began his speech, and thanks to the fact that God of the Dead was looking at him now, she could also analyze the man. He spoke with a weird mixture of calm confidence and loud nervousness and accusation – probably the personalities of both Khonshu's avatar and Khonshu himself combining with each other. She noticed a rebellious strand of brown hair falling down the man's face. She didn't know his name – she didn't knew anyone's at this point – so she focused on analyzing other things. By the way he looked, she assumed he was a simple man, wearing only a plain, grey shirt and trousers that were a shade darker. His hands were clasped in front of him, his posture confident but not aggravating. There was a short beard on the lower part of his face with hints of grey in it. He must've been in his early forties, she supposed.

Only now she noticed that his gaze was focused on her as well – and even though she knew it was actually because of the verbal spat between Khonshu and Anubis, she couldn't help but wonder if she was right now being analyzed in the same way by the actual owner of the man's body. She got carried away by her thoughts to the point where she did not really hear the words spoken by Moon God, instead focused on his avatar. Another voice joined them – this time it was time for Bastet's avatar to speak, since, after all, she was the main reason the council was summoned. The Goddess, speaking through the body of an elegant woman in her sixties, with long, gray hair falling down her shoulders and eyeglasses on her nose, was fighting for her right to survive. It was weird, somehow, to realize that this is how Egyptian Gods decided whether someone had to be punished by caging them in stone.

She listened to the Goddess, who began with calm assurance, only to slowly start descending into nervousness. It's was almost as if her words weren't important, because the members of the council already made their mind. While Hathor, Amun - and susprisingly, Khonshu - seemed eager to actually listen and tread carefully with their opinions and judgment, the rest looked almost bored. Anubis didn't say much more, after he vocalized his point in a verbal fight with the Moon God. Instead, he allowed himself to silently stare upon his avatar, two gods almost trying to kill each other by the power of looks alone. Because of that, she was forced to look upon the unknown man, but despite the silent aggression held by their respective gods, she didn't really mind. And so they looked at each other, almost as if they tried to actually see each other, instead of looking by the prism of their masters.

Bastet, as she supposed, lost her fight. Soon after she was subdued like a prisoner, with her hands behind her back, legs touching the cold, stone floor. The remaining nine Gods gathered around her avatar, extending hands to each other. On her right side was Hathor – a collected, calm woman, whose touch was delicate and comforting. On her left was the Moon Knight himself, cladded in simple greys. Their eyes met for a short while, and she could swear that they are actually looking at each other. She was a bit taken aback by how incredibly blue his eyes were, something that she could truly admire only from such a close distance.

Khonshu's avatar took her hand, delicately but firm. It was warm like Hathor's, but there was some kind of edge to this touch, almost like a premise of something darker. Whether it was just a part of Khonshu's aura, ot actual being of his Moon Knight, she wasn't sure.

Just like she couldn't know back then that this touch, followed by a chant that caged Bastet's energy in ushabti, would somehow follow her for many years into the future.

~ o ~

On the first council she attended, there were ten gods in total. After Bastet's demise, there were nine on the second one. The third, and as she supposed back then, her last one, ended with the loss of Anubis. Now, during her fourth one, there were only six. She prefered not to guess what would happen in the years to come. Will there be only one of them in the not-so-far future? Who would emerge victorious?

Six gods. Or were there actually five? Somehow she felt that Khonshu was standing on a very, very thin ice. Especially now, with the way he behaved, full of arrogance and spitefulness towards the Ennead. He was lucky to be banished in a non-permanent way, a weird kindness that he was given. But he was throwing that away, and her intuition seemed to be aware of what is going to happen if he keeps going down this road. Still, it was not in her interest to fight for Khonshu's rights. Nor in her power. She guessed that Steven and Marc would be glad with the Moon God gone... But this would also give a huge advantage to Harrow.

Ah, speaking of the devil.

She heard the familiar crunching of the glass and took a deep breath, slowly turning around in an almost perfect synchronization with Marc, who had pure, stone cold hatred painted on his face. Harrow, on the other hand, seemed calm and collected, as usual. She immediately noticed that he came without Ammit's cane – something she should've expected, since it would condemn him on the spot, but frustrated her nonetheless. His eyes met her, and this time both of them were actually themselves, not controlled by their masters. There was something akin to kindness in his face, but at the same time, while poking his aura of humble reason, there were those hints of cold determination. In this very moment, she realized that Harrow was actually perfectly capable of actually defeating the whole court with the power of nothing but his words alone, and this realization made her stressed. Even though she used to be fond of him back in the past, their delicate friendship balancing on the border of something akin to genuine, mutual interest, she liked to think that she was a pragmatic, and because of that Harrow had to be stopped no matter the cost. That's why, when confronted with Khonshu's plan by Marc, she agreed to it without a hesitation. It could end the whole Ammit dilemma fairly quickly. Especially since this was basically their last chance, since Harrow's men were discovering the ancient burial site at this very moment.

But now, when he was actually standing here in the flesh, she suddenly became much less confident. He just may get out of this, she thought. He's way too smart. For his own good, and for our own demise.

He bowed his head slightly in her direction in a polite greeting. She cursed herself in her thoughts when she responded in kind, almost like a reflex, her bound to the simple rules of basic respect ever leaving her, even when facing an enemy, one who could possibly put his hand to the death of millions of people all around the globe. Harrow welcomed her, but didn't extend it towards Marc and Khonshu on whom he focused afterwards, stopping next to them.

"As I see by the presence of Khonshu's current make-shift avatar, the purposes of our meeting must be nefarious." He began, humbly clasping his hands in front of himself, looking at Marc, but also sparing her another glance. Khonshu, of course, responded in his usual manner, with loud, rumbling voice echoing in the chamber. She looked at the exchange of words in silence, silently amused by the irony. Years before it was Harrow who carried out Khonshu's voice in this place, often fighting with hers as Anubis'. It was a weird relationship, where the avatars of the gods who despised each other found comfort in their own company. It was a simple camaraderie, sometimes they used to exchange more meaningful touches – the brush of fingertips on the wrist or cheek, a smile warmer than it normally should be, words spoke a bit too close to the shell of the ear. She missed it, and hoped that seeing Harrow again after few years would let this sentiment die, but it really didn't. It's not something she told anyone, not to Layla, not to Marc or Steven, but that weird shard of glass in her ribcage was still there, twisting everytime Harrow spoke, or even stood nearby, or was even so much as mentioned.

She never really wondered whether she actually fell in love all this time ago or not, but she knew there was something outside that seemingly innocent, gentle friendship. But that was in the past. Right now her eyes were jumping from him to Marc, with the latter quite obviously losing control over the situation. Khonshu used his words in a brutal manner, hoping the very force of his accusations would be enough to make Harrow crumble, but he brushed it as nothing, and still spoke in his own, unhurried way. It only seemed to agitate the Moon God more – something that, undoubtedly, was Arthur's plan. Not yet allowed to speak, she was forced to look as he plays the most dirty card he could, which was Marc's obvious identity problem. The breath she took was sharp enough for probably everyone to hear, and she saw Isis and Tefnut in her peripheral, shooting her a short glance. Harrow noticed this as well, his head turning for a moment in her direction ever-so-slightly, but he quickly gave his attention back to the rest of the room.

When Marc got subdued, she involuntarily looked away, memories flashing before her eyes. She remembered Bastet, and then herself, when Anubis was forcefully taken away from her body. The pain wasn't physical, but emotional – definitely. She could only hope that Khonshu didn't put the last nail to his coffin right in this very moment.

"It brings me no pleasure to tell you that this is a deeply troubled man." He says with a regret that could almost pass as genuine, if only she didn't knew the actual truth behind his disguise. She is starting to subtly fidget with her hands. The situation got out of control quickly because of Khonshu's lack of tact. She doubted it could be saved now, but the council has not ended. Not yet. "He is being abused by Khonshu in the very same way I was. The accusations against me forced upon his voice, a shadow of Khonshu's paranoia, but one without actual truth hiding in between."

"Then roll up your sleeve, please."

She doesn't even realize she spoke this out loud until the eyes of the whole room rest upon her. Oh, well, too late to back off now. But this small rulebreaker might turn the favor back to them, so she's willing to go with it. Is it not the reason she came, anyway?

Harrow looks at her, part of his face illuminated by the warm, orange glow, while the other is covered in the dark. His icy blue eyes were cold, calculating, but she could swear that for a moment she saw a hint of amusement in them, one that suggested that somehow it was a mistake to bring this on. Was it?

"You were not allowed to speak yet." Dark eyes of Osiris' avatar bore into her, and she did her best not to crumble under the power of that gaze alone. "Tread carefully."

"I am aware, and I apologize for the intrusion." She decides to stay respectful, in order to smooth the roughness left by Khonshu's outburst. "But since I already spoke, I insist to force the accused to roll up the sleeve on his right arm to reveal what's hidden underneath, since it is heavily tied to the accusation and Ammit herself."

She can see Osiris' jaw tense, and it sends a shiver down her spine. It seemed weird that he isn't interested in focusing on this as much as he should. What could be the reason, apart from distaste towards Khonshu? Where was the sense of justice?

It is Horus who decides to step in, and she can be only grateful for it.

"Let us see for ourselves, then. Roll up your sleeve, Arthur Harrow."

This is it, she thinks. There is no way he will be able to cover this up. Not when he's already accused of digging up the grave in the middle of the desert. She sees him sighting slightly, his fingers starts to curl on the fabric on his wrist, before he's suddenly stopped by the voice of Osiris.

She remembers now why she hated him during every single council. There was always something off about him.

"Let the girl do it, since she is the source of this accusation." He says, his dark eyes focused on her in a painful way that feels almost suffocating. "It is her burden. And if she's wrong and only tries to meddle, she will be held responsible along with Khonshu."

She gulps, but says nothing, feeling Harrow's gaze on her. She slowly walks over to him, no emotions on her face, trying her best to remain calm. Why is she nervous? She's about to reveal a very solid proof. And yet, something seemed off. About it all. About Harrow, and Osiris, now she thought of it.

She slowly reaches with her fingers to clasp his wrist, which he allows her to do, of course. He says nothing, but the way his eyes are focused on her face make her feel extremely uneasy. When she briefly gains enough courage to meet his eyes, she has no idea what is behind them. The way he can seem to be both warm and cold, gentle and harsh, sorrowful and amused is beyond her comprehension. Perhaps he was all of this, in same measures, constatly fighting an inner battle.

He's radiating warmth, his breath steady, and when she starts rolling up his sleeve, still wearing the calm, steady facade she perfected over the years, she can feel the brush of his fingertips on her own wrist, and it almost makes her choke from something she cannot understand.

The choke, however, becomes audible, followed by the gasp when she finally reveals to the council the naked skin of his right arm, only to see that there is nothing there. Her lips slowly part in surprise, and she can't help herself but graze her finger along the line of his veins, like if it was supposed to magically bring Ammit's scales tattoo back where they should be, where they always were. The only thing that suggests anything is that the place she circles with her finger is cold – while the rest of his skin is pleasantly warm.

What the hell?

She's at loss for words, slowly letting go of his arm – but her hand stops somewhere mid-air when she realizes that his fingers are delicately, but firmly gripping her wrist, applying sort of pressure. As if he was checking her pulse. When she looked at him, daggers in her gaze, he replied with something she could not interpret, once again. But the weight of his gaze alone was enough to make her feel almost dizzy.

"So you have no proof at all, whatever it was supposed to be." Osiris breaks through the heavy silence, and she finally looks at him, gritting her teeth. Harrow is still holding her wrist and still looking at her, but she tries to ignore it. "That's a shame."

The darker tone of his voice makes her shiver, which, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by the man who holds her wrist in his grip. She can see something in Osiris' avatar twitch, almost cruelly, before Arthur's voice steps in, to her own surprise.

"I believe she is also a victim of Khonshu's influence, however indirect." He finally looks away from her, if only for a moment, to focus on the council members. "There is no reason to punish her, nor Mark Spector, for the mistakes in judgment they commit because of it. I only wish to issue a humble request to watch out for Khonshu's desire to twist innocent people's minds as a way to achieve his own goals."

Her nostrils flare, and she feels her throat clench. It was such a simple way to manipulate the room, and yet so disgustingly well played. She genuinely hated Harrow for his expertise in owning every conversation he had along with people participating in it. Even if those participants weren't mortal people, but actual gods, dating back to who knows how many millenias back.

"If you say so." Osiris' voice is almost frustrated as he releases Marc's wrists from the spell. Harrow finally releases her own, but not before he sends her another long, enigmatic look. Almost sorrowfull. Almost. "The accused has commited no offense. This matter is concluded."

And just like that, the gods leave, as well as do their avatars. She can't help but sigh in defeat, closing her eyes as she steps back to look at Marc, who tries to regain his strength and get up. It doesn't come easily to him, so she waits patiently in silence, broke only by echoes of the retreating steps of avatars, who are coming back to their previous, normal, day-to-day activities. Like if nothing happened. Technically, she should've been grateful. At least they didn't lose Khonshu, and having him on their side could still be crucial.

She noticed Harrow moving in her peripheral, and involuntarily she looked in his direction. He once again closed the short distance between them, and slowly put his hand on her shoulder, in a gesture that was supposed to be comforting, one that shouldn't be, and one that, oh no, truly was. She felt her muscles relax a little, even though her mind was basically screaming and tensing up even more, if that was even possible. He brought his face closer to her own, and she could feel his warm breath on her face, his gaze slowly measuring her face, from her eyes to lips, and back to her eyes again. She felt one of his fingers go up and brush against the delicate skin of her neck. Whether it was a gesture of delicacy, of former something they may have shared back in the past, or an underlying threat – she couldn't tell.

He brought his face close to her earlobe and she did ger best not to sigh in a twisted form of content.

"Well done." Was all he said – no, whispered – to her, and only to her, before he took a step back, his arm still on her shoulder, and eyes still searching for something. There was a smile on his face, delicate and warm, but one contradicting the coldness of his gaze. He turned around, finally, and moved his hand to his sleeve, starting to pull it down and walking away.

She managed to notice a delicate sliver of a white light, and she could swear she sees the outline of the scales' tattoo coming back to his skin before it was once again hidden by the red fabric.

#back at it again huh #I don't know why I like putting so much in the narrative so sorry about that but #I just like exploring the psychological aspects of all of this so #at least somehow #ambiguity alert because that's my jam #now I can move to university projects #just needed to write it because this is as always very self indulgent #arthur harrow #moon knight #mcu #marvel #ethan hawke

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philtatosbuck · 2 years

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not to be a hater but shit like this is why people think tim drake fans are insufferable y'all are setting both tim and the rest of us up to look like fools i actually like tim but i was hoping this would end in all of them jumping him

#literally insane #i love tim. for reference. i enjoy tim very much #almost everybody in that family can beat his ass in a spontaneous fight first off #SECOND OFF.... HE'S SO INSUFFERABLE IN THIS???#like tell me you based 90% of this off of canon interpretation w/o telling me.#like jason and damian r rly gonna sit there and Be Threatened #like self indulgence yes but also. girl at this point make ocs??#who are those people???#tim isn't even walking around talking like that #there's a point where you start projecting onto a character SO much #that you straight up ignore who the character actually is #because you have a couple things in common #and then u get shit like this #being in this fandom and liking dick jason tim AND damian is hell on fucking earth #every which way i turn some of you bitches are EMBARRASSING me #there are WAYS. to write fics. where characters get to call out ppl who wronged them.#without it being so wildly out of character. y'all r killing me.#AGAIN. i like tim.#don't tag this w anti tim shit ion wanna see it #hate the obnoxious part of his fandom #actually. i'm not putting this in any main tags self care

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wispcherry · 6 months

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projecting? me? never.

i was born full of love

i was born kind and curious

i loved the moon

i loved the sun

each day i would profess it all

i wrote soliloquies of the stars

couplets of comets

elegies of effability

you met me with the stone under our feet

treated me like an equal

with no question to my value

i was born full of love

i was born caring and full of want

i loved the wine we drank together by the dying light

i loved the storms we sheltered each other under

and as i grew that love spilled over

into touches of our hands

into late nights of indulgence

into shared glances i could hardly describe

you who sorrow runs through

who smiled like nothing mattered

just so i could return a grin

I was born full of love.

I was born of love itself.

And how it tears at me inside.

I loved you.

I love you more than anything.

I clutch at the place where my heart should be.

Where you should be.

Where I can whisper to you, I am sorry, I will make it up to you, oh please forgive me.

Where you could find it in yourself to give me another chance. Again, and again.

You who was never given a second chance

If I must fall again and again for you, from grace, it is inconsequential.

Do it. Hold onto me like present does past, like death does life, to keep me from running away from all I have ever wanted. Do it again, right now.

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xamag-draws · 18 days

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BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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starrypen · 5 months

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⋇⊶⊰ (FINALLY) GIVING JUNGWON HEAD ⊱⊷⋇

pairing: dom!jungwon x gn!reader

genre: smut

summary: jungwon was a great project partner. not only did you learn lots about the module, but also how to give head!

warnings: implied virgin reader, pet names, face fucking, giving head, dom jungwon, implied sub reader, swearing. 1.4k words.

a/n: self indulgent. i want jungwon so bad.

for what could be one last time, you took in the scenery of your classmate’s room. the walls were painted ivory, the desk was a metallic navy, his bedsheets a similar shade of blue. although you hated this module, it turned out to be your favourite, but maybe that’s just because you were finally able to get some one-on-one time with jungwon. you’d been partnered up together for this project, and you’d enjoyed every second of it. you’d actually become quite close, flirty even. he’d often ask for a message, tell you how good your hands felt on him, or ask if you wanted one in return. he’d sometimes seem bummed when you said you going on dates, or hanging around with guys, but you didn’t want to delude yourself, maybe he just wanted to get the project done sooner.

tonight, you’d finally finished the poster for the presentation. it felt like an end, and you didn’t really like that. just as you were contemplating asking him out on a date, jungwon popped a rather intrusive question.

“is giving head fun?” jungwon asked, folding the peel of his banana in on itself while finishing the last bite. he aimed for the trash can in his room and succeeded, as per usual.

this was his usual style of conversation, he definitely meant it in a playful way, but you felt obligated to answer it truthfully. “uh i mean,” you shifted awkwardly and gulped as you watched his throw, “i cannot confirm or deny.”

“i take that as a no then,” he picked up the scissors and stretched up to his desk with them, placing them down firmly as his eyes scanned the poster.

your eyes do the same, anything to avoid looking at him, “well i wouldn’t know, that’s why i can’t say.”

he turns to you, puzzled, “huh?” his brows furrowed more as he notices you burning up, “i thought you’d slept with loads of guys?”

“yeah, no, i haven’t, i just said that to be you know,” you cringed at your previous interactions with the boy whose room you were currently in, “cool…” you gulped again, biting the bullet as words escaped before you could stop them, “but i kinda want to know, i just haven’t found someone who would be worthy of such an honour yet.” you owned it, a smirk on your face, which jungwon could clearly tell was feigned confidence.

his hand came to rest on yours, ceasing it’s trembling which gave you away. “do you really wanna try?”

you nodded.

“what about with me?” he waited until you nodded again. “would that be okay?”

“are you sure?”

to your surprise, jungwon laughed, “y/n, i’ve been waiting for this day since the first day of college, i’m very much okay with this.”

you joined in, awkwardly, “me too, to be honest.” his hand disappeared from yours as you finally got more comfortable in your laughter, instead tussling with his jeans’ zipper, standing up as he did so. you joined him, standing clumsily, watching him.

“sit down, y/n,” his eyes darted to the bed as he took one leg from his jeans, the other following shortly.

you sat, his boxers in your eyeline. you couldn’t help but look, his bulge right in front of you. you held your breath as your teeth tore your lips and the inside of your cheeks apart.

“hey, y/n, don’t be nervous, okay? we can stop at any time, you got that?” you felt his hand on your head, stroking it gently, calming you slowly but surely. “look at me, baby,” he spoke softly, your eyes drifted up to his.

after a short while of eye contact, your eyes naturally fell once again to his boxers, “do you wanna touch it?” he asked.

you nodded, his hand still on your head but not guiding your response at all. your hand timidly reached out, cupping the general area a little gauchely.

“how about you rub your hand over it? up and down,” you tried to imitate his suggestion with your hand, and with a little help from his own, you managed to get a good feel of his hardening cock. “good, doesn’t it feel good to know that you did this?”

you giggled shyly, but almost a little smugly, under your breath, “it does.”

“then how about i let you see, how does that sound, hm?” by this point, you were no longer palming his cock, instead, your hand running over his own as he played with his own dick inside his boxers.

“good,” you agreed, not really sure of what to say.

he revealed his dick, pulling his boxers to just below it and then finally pulling them completely off as he watched you admire it.

you licked your lips as if you’d already been conditioned to do so. “it’s so,” your hand went to it once again, employing the same motion, again a little awkwardly, before wrapping your hand around it more comfortably, “thick.”

“is it?” he asks in pleasant surprise, “well it’s all yours, baby.”

you pump it a couple more times, getting used to the feeling, before asking, “can i try sucking it?”

“you’re so eager,” he chuckles, “of course you can,” the hand on the back of your head starts to guide you towards his semi hardened cock as you get closer to his body. you’re not sure if the heat is coming from him or your face alone at this point, but you’re almost basking in it as if its warm caribbean sun.

“open your mouth, i’ll just put the tip in.” you did as he said and he kept to his promise, the head of his cock resting on your tongue. “okay, now close your mouth,” your lips wrapped around it. you looked up to him for reassurance, he breathed heavily in response. you think that meant you were doing a good job. “you can move a bit, if you want,” he spoke through gritted teeth, but it only turned you on more. you moved your head lightly, taking as much as you thought you could before coming back up for air. “spit on it, y/n, get it all wet, you’ll be able to take more.”

“fuck, jungwon, it’s so big,” you repositioned it back in your mouth, drooling on it, leaving your hand on his shaft for support. encouraged by a groan from the boy, you carried on sucking. his free hand took your own from his cock and held it by his side, interlocking your fingers together.

“this feels so good, y/n,” getting carried away, he thrusts gently. you’re taken aback, he notices your pace slows almost to a stop. “oh, i’m so sorry, was that too much? i didn’t even think, ugh,”

you begin sucking again, you can’t even respond to his apology, you just want his cum. unable to hold back, he thrusted again, only this time, you leaned into it. his grip on your hair got tighter and his thrusts got harder, your lips became less pursed and your throat started to make gagging sounds. jungwon was fucking your face. just like you’d wanted.

you placed your free hand on his thigh, slowing him down as your throat felt more and more used. your lips tightened around him again and your head bobbed deeply, adding a little bit of a swirling motion. under your touch, you felt his leg begin to shake.

“fuck, y/n, im cumming,” he announced, letting go of your hand in favour of pulling his dick from your mouth and covering your upper lip and nose in cum. he seemed a little dissatisfied. his dick dragged the cum down and across your lips, parting them slightly as your tongue grazed his tip again. “you’re like, incredible at giving head, y/n,” he admitted, panting as he watched over you, a slight hunch to his posture.

“i never doubted it,” you chuckled, taking a tissue from his bedside table and wiping your face. “but i should probably clean this off before your flatmates realise we haven’t been studying all this time.”

he extended a hand to help you off his bed, laughing with you, “don’t worry, they’ve been wanting this to happen almost as much as i have.”

#jungwon #enhypen #enhypen smut #jungwon smut #enhypen imagines #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon

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