#or maybe arthur DOES die he just gets better or something

[commonrosefinch]

The thing about starting a podcast that's still ongoing is that even if I don't know spoilers...I know spoilers?

So hearing the reveal at the end of episode 12 was less shock factor and more just me sighing and going "John you whore :/"

#honestly i did sort of guess it but i cant tell if thats because foreshadowing or the influence of fanart ive seen #maybe both. both. both is good? #anyway yeah #im also aware that like theyll be....fine? more fine? okay-ish? because i doubt the show would be going if arthur was dead #or maybe arthur DOES die he just gets better or something #malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john malevolent #laney speaks

[serawritesthings]

hi! do you take requests? if not you can discard this but i really love the way you write emotionally charged moments so i’d love your writing style on this prompt, it can be a one shot or more of a blurb whichever you like: so perhaps taking place post canon where arthur is found half dead on that cliff and reader is nursing him back to health, trying hard to stay strong and believe he’ll get better but arthur is just waiting to die any day now and wishing he hadn’t been found, until he hears reader in another room crying to herself having to see him so deathly ill like that and slowly losing hope. so he starts feeling more determined to at least try for her sake and maybe see her smile one last time. but in the end he does get better, not quite back to his full strength yet but better 🥹 hope i didn’t ramble too much, i absolutely love your work and the way you write and i can’t wait to see what you post next 🫶🏻

IN TREMBLING ARMS

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | While the world you had built around yourself seemed to crumble right before you, the last measures to sustain your happiness grew hard to take as the man you love fell deeper into his own despair. Tags | Angst-heavy, description of violence and wounds, fluff somewhere... :o Word Count | 11.4k A/N | Hiiii lovelies! ♡ I recently got this request that I really liked the sound of, which meant I obviously had to write it;) I hope what I wrote was in tune with what you had in mind! Enjoy! Also, thank you for the kind words♡

The pain of recalling an old life is surely something we’re all familiar with. Undoubtedly, it’s a brutal world we live in, one that sometimes takes too much and only gives small crumbles in return. You often found yourself crawling the ground to pick up these crumbs, laden with dust and dirt, just like your joyous memories are tainted in blood and pain–small glimpses of happiness amidst the hardship in day-to-day life, the tiny things that make living worth fighting for.

They were all thanks to Arthur. You’d been aware for quite a while that he didn’t think highly of himself, meaning he couldn’t possibly estimate how much his presence impacted your life. He couldn’t see that every good memory lately was in his favor–how he held your entire world in the bare palm of his hands. He could never understand, and you could tell he didn’t.

Every part of you was clinging to the last remains of a man who dropped the world’s weight off his shoulders, preparing to breathe the last breaths on this earth, alone and without you. It was so close now that you could almost taste it. You could tell by how his shoulders dropped heavily in resignation, the words that grew dull and lifeless, and his wit that never failed to bring a smile to your lips disappeared. 

Even so, you saw glimpses of the man you fell for, and if you looked closely, you could find those few crumbles that gave you hope, even though they were ridden with filth. He’d still pinch your waist lightly to jest when you were in a bad mood, always putting your comfort above his own, even though he needed it more.

The burden on his shoulders was heavier than ever when he returned from being out. He was no doubt following Dutch's careless orders that, with time, became more uncaring and, worst of all, unsafe. It bothered you heavily that there was no regret anymore as he bid his orders around like Arthur wasn’t hunching down in exhaust with every step, more often than not needing a seat as coughs so rough wrecked through him, never failing to make you cringe.

Of course, Arthur could take care of himself, never stopping short of explaining that to you. But now, times were different, and you could see his eyes grow slightly more hollow every time he returned to you, and his bloodshot eyes grew into normality.

So naturally, you never stopped short when voicing your concerns to Arthur, but he was so headstrong he refused to acknowledge the toll everything was taking on his body. Deep down, you wondered if he continued since he had come to terms with his fate, putting other’s safety before his own because he had simply stopped trying. 

He damned you for not listening to him, but his words held no real threat because he couldn't find it in himself to force you away against your will. So he let you stay, and through his violent coughs and wheezing, he always felt you rub his back soothingly, knowing that his time was running short. Because of this, he took every chance to bask in your gentle touches that felt more like home than anything else.

"Did you find out anything about John today?" Speaking softly, you run your fingers through his tousled hair, undoubtedly from wearing his rugged hat all day, observing his tired face as you were on his lap, Arthur sitting down as he came back to rest his aching legs.

"Mmm, we did." Thumbing at the fabric of the shirt you had stolen from him, he let the words rumble softly against you, breathing warmly against the chilled skin of your cheek.

"Abigail's real worried, you know, begged to come with us." Humming, you pondered over his words. Your dear friend has been over her head in worry as of late, the disappearance of John not doing the slightest to ease her anxiety.

"We'll get him back." You weren't sure if you were reassuring Arthur or yourself, but then again, there wasn't much you were sure of anymore. It seemed unlikely that anything you would say would comfort him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try–every chance you got, you wanted to make him see reason.

Bringing you closer, he breathed heavily into your shoulder, throat whistling slightly from the strain, as his hands gripped your waist firmly, sighing in contentment when you hugged him back.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered, earlier taking notice of his eyes that had grown redder than usual and the slight blood stain he hastily wiped when you approached him, hoping you didn't get the time to spot it.

"The usual, I guess." Nodding slightly to appear positive before you, he let out a heavy sigh.

As the silence stretched, he kissed the top of your head lovingly after a while when you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the moment since you hadn’t seen him much these past days. 

"Tomorrow, me and Sadie thought about goin’-" You didn't give him a chance to finish, lifting your head from his shoulder as a frown appeared. God, you knew it was coming, but you had hoped he would still see reason and not do something stupid like that in his condition.

"Couldn't someone else go with Sadie? You not-" Catching yourself before you said the words you knew would get him riled up, you sighed slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about you, Arthur. About everything."

"Hey." Cradling you closer, he softly grabbed your chin between his calloused fingers, beckoning you to meet his warm gaze. "What did we talk about, hm? I'll be alright." 

You grabbed his cheek and stroked your thumbs against the scarred skin. He was so beautiful to you, just like he had always been, and you were sure he would scoff at you if you voiced your thoughts. But it was true. That face had seen you through the most challenging times of your life, and never had they been the reason for your tribulations and sadness. 

"Now you're just lying to me to make me feel better." A long silence followed as you stared at each other, both stubborn beyond means, until the corners of his mouth raised slightly, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile against your will, trying to keep your previous frown on your face. 

His eyes, often weathered and wise, turned into soft pools of warmth and affection as they gazed at you. The world’s weight seemed to lift every time, even now, leaving only the tender vulnerability of a man deeply in love.

"Now, now," he spoke, words growing into his usual teasing tone as he grazed his hands along the fabric covering your sides, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. There’s an intoxicating allure to how his lips curve, never stopping short of making the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. "There's that smile I've been looking for." 

Slightly tickling the sides of your stomach, you gasped as you tried peeling his hands away when a giggle left you from the unexpected sensation. Damned be Arthur and his refusal to let you worry about him, always trying to lessen your pain when he was severely worse. 

"No, Arthur! Stop it!" Laughing merrily, he placed small kisses in the small crevice of your neck, relentlessly tickling your sides as you squirmed in his arms, an ugly laugh leaving you as you found it harder and harder to breathe amidst his torture. He snickered audibly at the sound leaving you, always finding humor in the strange quirks he loved so much.

The moment didn't last long, though, for the gut-wrenching coughs that left him amidst your banter made the cheerfulness of the moment quickly grow into a distant memory. Arthur would tell you he was okay and that all he needed was a few moments, just like he always did, but you both knew the disease was growing more severe as time passed.

Your precious memories grew less and less, though, and as time passed, there were hardly any crumbs left for you to pick up. The ugly paint of power, distrust, and hatred covered them. A hatred that grew so deep in every single being that surrounded you, and even in yourself. Hostility from one’s upbringing, misfortune, and wrong-doings. Bitterness for striving towards a goal that doesn’t have a finishing line, only a no-return sign at both the start and end. 

A selfish disdain, it is, and oh so human. How could you possibly find the end where everyone could make amends when they had no will to change? How could you save him when he didn’t want to be saved? His only interest now was to get everyone away from the gang that he could for the time being. It had been apparent for some time now that whatever this was, it was over.

Because of this, Arthur told you to leave some time ago. He had begged you on his hands and knees as the blood he coughed up dripped like rain down his paled, gray skin. A beautiful tragedy it was, one that would leave people in a theater with tears glistening down their cheeks as the sight before them clenched at their hearts. That wasn’t how you experienced it, though. It was more like someone cutting through your numb skin and laying your heart down on the table to unfold every crevice and nook to prod at every part that hurt so terribly with a knife. 

It made you wonder if hearts could bleed. You weren’t sure, but somehow you knew yours did as every strained cough from the man you love caused the tears that fell from your eyes to turn into a deep red, mingling with his on the ground. 

As he begged, you could only stare at the ghost of a man you once loved: the warm skin turning cold under the palm of your hands, calculating and mischievous eyes growing vulnerable and exposed, and strong arms that once held you tightly, weak and skinny. They gripped your skirt for dear life like the sullen fabric covered with filth kept his weary body alive. And god, how you tried, despite the pitying looks thrown your way and resistance from Arthur's side, you wanted to keep him alive.

You had hated no one in your meager, seemingly insignificant life, but you hated Arthur. You hated him passionately for trying to make you leave behind the only thing that made you feel even the slightest bit of happiness. The only reason you had stayed with these people for so long was him, only him, and now he asked you to leave so he could spend the rest of his short time either getting shot or dying from his disease?

“You go now, or I’ll drag you on that train myself and tie you to the seat.” Silence had followed his last attempt to push you away, thick with a wave of heated anger from both of you as the remnants of your love grew shrouded in an unwillingness to understand. You didn’t want to recognize his worry, for you knew it would be the end for you and him.

“I ain’t got much left to lose now, so I must do this. You have to understand. Go.” The bitterness in his words grew colder as he spoke; the conversation that started so filled with passion grew harsh.

“Don’t get much to lose?” Your meek voice was choked up with frustration as you felt your heart drop to the ground. “What about me?!” 

Everything hurt deeply, like he had set your whole body alight and then stomped on the remaining ashes. You had tried so hard to keep your head straight for Arthur through these challenging times, following every step he took loyally, never once questioning his decisions. Him telling you to leave had been the final straw. For him to expect you to give up everything you had done for him made you wonder how much you were worth to him.

“You can’t just tell me to leave!” Broken sobs left you when you spoke, hands trembling where you tried to rip his hands off your skirt, anything to lessen the tightening in your chest. When he didn’t ease his grip, your hands hit his chest as tears flowed down your warm cheeks. He closed his eyes from where he sat, the grip on your skirt turning his skin ghostly pale as you tried to create some distance, refusing to let you back away. 

In your head, he was supposed to want you with him until the last second, and you could not dare imagine it any other way. Because of this, it wounded you deeper than he could imagine.

The hands that never once had grown harsh with you only pulled you closer, letting you bat tirelessly at him while your eyes grew heavy with a furious sadness gnawing at your insides. The surrounding air had become thicker than it usually was in the confines of Beaver Hollow, so it left you gasping for air as the distress wound its way around your throat.

His eyes were as warm as they always seemed when looking at you, and you damned him for it. Even when Arthur broke your heart, he rendered you entirely at his mercy the way he kept this gaze reserved for only you–like he understood you.

“I hate you.” Growing weak, you sank to your knees and rested your weary head on his chest, letting him hold you as you trembled in his sickly arms. 

Soon after that, it seemed everything had reached a breaking point, and it couldn’t have been late enough. Arthur put you behind Sadie on the tall horse, making her promise to get you somewhere safe while he went and risked his life. Risk it for what you thought, kicking and screaming at him as he lifted you. Sadie was trying to comfort you, her hand on your waist as the worry for you and Arthur filled her mind.

"Let me down!" Tears were falling from your bloodshot eyes, filled with endless pools of agony and sorrow as the man before you avoided your gaze. "You're not sending me away!" You attempted to swing your leg over the saddle as you spoke through the hiccups that wrecked through you, fighting against Sadie’s hold.

"Please, sweetheart, come on." Broad arms caught your waist hastily, lifting you to put you back behind the worried woman. "Go with Sadie, now; she'll keep you safe." His voice grew distressed as you resisted, a deep worry for your safety that he always kept as a priority clouding his thoughts when you didn’t comply.

Not listening to him, you shimmered down the horse and threw your arms around Arthur's familiar embrace, burying your head in his shoulder as you breathed in his familiar scent. "Don't leave me here; please take me with you." 

You knew now that his death was inevitable, an end you had refused to acknowledge as possible ever since you first set your eyes on him. Despite this, the love you kept for him made everything pale in comparison, not wanting to spend the endless days of the remaining part of your life without him. If he would find his solace in death, so would you.

He didn't answer you, instead wounding his arms around your smaller frame as he hugged you tightly against him, trying to map out every part of you into his mind so that even in death, he could remember the feeling of you forever. 

"Don't go." You begged him without shame, holding onto him tightly as your tears darkened the material of his shirt. "I'm begging you."

You felt a pair of hands cover your cheeks, the blue orbs you knew so well staring reassuringly into yours, hiding the endless anguish taking cover behind its facade.

"I love you, sweetheart." His voice shook as he spoke, gazing with a terrible agony into yours. "I love you so much, you hear me?" Shaking your head slightly as he said, you could only weep as you realized your attempts to save him were useless. 

"I love you too, Arthur," you said through sobs. Arthur was stroking the tears from your eyes as he pulled you in one last time, face scrunching together from having to leave you as he kissed the top of your hair.  

So, in the end, he watched you leave as you stared after him in disbelief when Sadie set off, your body growing numb as he disappeared between the forest trees, hugging the woman as sobs wrecked through you.

"God." Crouching down, he panted as coughs broke through the silence surrounding him after you departed. But it didn’t seem to be the only thing rendering him on his knee as the dirty ground prodded at his knees, the all-to-consuming thought of never seeing you again clamping at his heart something so fierce he thought he might heave.

He had never been a stranger to heartache, having lived a life full of gut-wrenching memories and stories that were not for the faint-heartedly. But this, this was something entirely else. All these years of fighting, never knowing where he would rest his head the next night, and for what? So he could be free? He had been angry, so very angry at the world. 

It all felt meaningless now, the constant blood on his hands, the pain he had brought others that might as well have been him had he chosen another path, the choice to drag you with him to the gates of hell instead of taking your hand and running off so he could keep you forever. 

And in the end, as he lay there on the mountain, bleak eyes staring at the rising sun, he could feel an unfamiliar peace crawl up his feet, relaxing the very troubled muscles that had never rested up to his chest where a heavy weight had been present his whole life. In it, the heaviness had torn a big hole in his chest that pulled every good thing that had found him in his life into the prolonged darkness. 

 But somehow, a relief was spreading in his mind as he figured peace was closer than he thought, slowly and surely beginning to unfold in front of him. Darkness spread around him as the last lights reached his eyes before the tired lids grew shut, the now ever-so-strong memory of you branded into his mind.

–

You were no stranger to the rain. As a child, you reveled in the droplets that fell from the sky when the clouds formed. It was so simple, yet a memory so strong that it stuck with you throughout your life. Now, though, the rain that clung to your clothes only made the numbness grow worse, unable to feel your fingers as you rode on the muddy path that stretched before you, slippery and treacherous. It was no longer comforting, raking through your body like ice, chilling you from tip to toe.

Although not sure of your actions, there wasn't a single regret in your body for leaving both Sadie and Abigail when they found John, taking the first chance to head back the way you came from, the glimmer of hope that you would discover Arthur alive pushing you on, even though it dimmed with time. 

When John returned, he could only look at you sadly while shaking his head, the look in his eyes enough for you to understand that Arthur hadn’t come with him. But you knew, of course you did, that he wasn’t coming back to you; his words and your knowledge of his ways are telling enough.

You had calmed down now, thinking more logically, but you preferred how you felt before instead of the hole beginning to form in your chest. It consumed you, growing bleaker and bleaker with time, making you wonder if you would ever find Arthur.

You found him eventually, but the torment of seeing him lying lifeless as the warm, lingering evening sun glazed over his skin beat at your bruised heart. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looked so small, like his body was cowering against the ground, seeking shelter from the cold breeze and a world that had grown so cruel, so malicious. 

If the anguish following his departure was anything to go by, the sheer pain that shot through you after your bewildered moment of silence could only be likened to a thousand times worse. What you had feared the most seemed to be reality now, and it couldn’t have hurt any less.

Your aching feet, sore from climbing the far way up the mountain, ran the muddy path up to him as your hands enclosed his cold cheeks–swollen and purple with bruises as dried blood covered the majority of his skin. 

“No, no, no!” You mouthed the words since you couldn’t get a single sound to leave you, a force so firmly clamping at your throat. You grabbed his clothes, shaking him as if it would make a difference and show a sign of life. It didn’t work, so you could only wrap your trembling arms around his neck, wailing out his name while begging the heavens above to bring him back to you, for the pain was too much to bear.

How would you continue life without him? The thought was too heavy to consider, your distressed mind refusing to believe he was gone. He’d always rise back up the moment something brought him down, so strong mentally and physically that you sometimes wondered how he was real. Why couldn’t he do that now and spare you all this hurt?

“Do you remember when we first met, how you always told me we would run away, just you and me?" Grabbing his hand, you placed small, lingering kisses on the battered knuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours as your voice trembled fiercely. 

There had been a magnetic pull in the way his gaze had lingered on you when he spoke of his deepest wishes as if every word was a silent vow etched into the very fabric of your relationship. It’s something you both said of often when everything grew heavy, like an escape from reality to what things could be.

“How can we do that now if you’re going to leave me?” Sobs wrecked through you, gazing at his closed eyes while you internally begged for them to open. “Why are you leaving me?!”

Resting your head on his chest, you breathed in the scent solely your Arthur as he flooded your senses. Your guttural cries of anguish filled the air until your voice broke, eyes growing heavy with strain while you could only lay there with him, imagining he was alive under you.

Your head had grown empty after that, laying upon the body you had so many times before. You remembered the moments of complete and utter peace when he held you in the confines of his tent, warm hands always managing to find sanction around your waist no matter how exhausted he was.

The thought made you smile, remembering how his heartbeat would pick up as you intertwined your fingers. He was in many ways stoic, rarely sharing how you affected him, but you knew. In secret, of course, you knew, and you would kill to feel that again.

But when he fell asleep underneath you, the beating pattern would cease and instead follow a slower thud, never failing to bring you to sleep. Just like it beat now, you felt the lids of your eyes that were still wet with tears grow heavy under the comforting thudding of his heart, lulling you closer and closer to sleep.

Your eyes shot open so fast that you almost got a whiplash, raising your knees in disbelief. Arthur was lying still even now, body still beaten and bruised, but as you put your fingers on his pulse, you could feel it.

There it was, the slight thud of a pulse buried deep between the layers of skin and flesh, keeping Arthur alive despite the turmoil that had rendered his body almost inert. Grabbing the sides of his face, you shook it slightly, hope now filling your mind even though he didn’t move a single muscle. 

God, he was alive, even though barely. The air got lodged in your throat as you felt puzzled, having been dead set on having to bury a corpse. 

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Not a single indication left him as you spoke, wiping the hair covering his eyes so you could get a better look at him. A slight fluttering of his eyelashes could be seen as your voice broke through the stillness of the mountain. The more you grabbed his body in disbelief, the more movements you saw from him: fingers twitching slightly, small intakes of breath, and brows furrowing in small motions. 

Raising on your feet, you sat down with his head in your lap, stroking his cheeks gently before you started tapping at them briskly, anything to wake him up. It didn’t work, so you started calling for him loudly, hoping it would reach him wherever he was. 

“God dammit, Arthur, wake up!” 

That did it. Unfocused eyes began to open up from underneath you, though Arthur found it difficult because of the swelling around the eyes. Seeing him so beaten up hurt you heavily, but you put all your energy into making him regain consciousness, forcing the turmoil far away from your mind. 

“Hey, look at me. Can you see me?” The slightest motion of a nod could be seen, and you thanked whoever above that he responded to you.

Although through blurry eyes, he could see a slight indication of you hovering above him, wondering if he somehow had ended up in heaven to be able to gaze at you one last time. But maybe it was hell after all, the torturing fire replaced with you, barely in reach where he couldn’t touch you, which was the worst kind of torture he could conjure up.

You could see his fingers flex slightly, in your mind trying to show signs that he heard you, but in his stretching so he could reach out to you to touch the softness of your skin with his sinful hands.

“I need your help, Arthur. I can’t carry you alone, so you need to try, okay?” To be quite honest with yourself, you had no idea what you were doing, never mind if it was even possible to get him to move to the state he was in. But you had to try, at least. You weren’t leaving him here to fend for himself in search of help, pondering if those few moments could lead to his death. It was the only way.

“I told you to leave.” Amidst his close-to-death confusion, Arthur had grown more conscious, managing to speak as his eyes closed again. He realized you weren’t conjured up; instead, you were as real as could be as you prodded at his exhausted limbs. 

You ignored his hurtful words, putting your arms under his head so you could assist in getting him to raise. He wasn’t light, that was for sure, but still, you tried until he was sitting up, although his head was hanging low and his back was arched forward in exhaustion.

“Come on, Arthur, I need you to help me.” Amidst your tries to keep him upright, you felt the all too familiar flood of tears threatening to flood from your eyes when the challenge felt impossible. You never felt so weak as you did right now, the possibility of helping him stay alive fading against the man's heaviness and your weary muscles. 

“Honey, go. You-” Arthur slurred out as he almost dropped. “You shouldn’t be here.” Yelling in frustration as he once again fell towards the muddy ground, you put your hand over your face as the dam of tears broke.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Arthur!” Taking a deep breath, you bent down again to try once more. His eyes were barely open now, staring at you in pain. “Please, just try.”

A loud grunt left him as he raised again, hands gripping the soil underneath him, damning your stubbornness. Although weak, you managed to get him to stand, leaning most of his weight on you. It was hard, no doubt, to feel his body supporting your smaller one, but it worked, for now. The breaths leaving him were awful, and he gasped out loud as you stepped forward slowly. 

“This ain’t gonna work, honey,” Arthur mumbled, not a single hope left in his body to survive the long way to safety.

“Yes, it is.” You refused to listen to him, mind set straight on getting him to the horse. 

Far back in your mind, you remembered a place Arthur used to take you, always going on about a man he used to hunt with until your ears bled. He had told you of its location when the poor man had died, bringing you there once. That should be fine, you thought. Hopefully, it was empty. If not, you have another problem on your hands. 

The way back to the mare was challenging, with both of you falling countless times as the ground underneath you was uneven and riddled with stones. But your stubbornness wasn’t in vain because, after some time, you saw the familiar black coat of the horse appearing in front of you like an angel.

Not a single sound left him, eyes now almost closed as coughs left him then and again, both body and mind tired. He was taller than you, so he got on the horse much faster than you initially thought possible. Soon after, you swung your legs over the saddle in front of him, letting him lean his weight on you as you circled his arms around your waist so he wouldn’t fall off. 

“Stay awake, Arthur.” Glancing back when you didn’t get an answer, you only met a tuft of hair as his head fell on your shoulder. “Come on, I can’t do this without your help.” 

The road to the house you barely remembered was long, and you couldn’t ride too fast, worried about the grip on you that grew less by the minute. Thankfully, he had managed to stay awake the whole ride, but you felt his breathing grow more unstable and shallow. 

The weather on that mountain had been forgiving, like time and space had stopped moving in sorrow, the warm sun covering you in its blanket. Now, though, the howling wind surrounding you made your surroundings bitterly cold, arms held in front of you to see where you were going.

Many times, you tried to speak to make sure he was still with you, but your voice grew muted against the forceful wind, so you gave up, hoping his weight on you meant he held some sort of consciousness.

As time passed and darkness began to spread around you, a small house by a lake appeared behind many trees and foliage. It was different from what you remembered, but still, somehow the same, staring back at you like some sort of angel, the promise of comfort egging you forward.

Not a word was exchanged as you helped him down the horse, a solemn resignation making him follow your will without a complaint, or maybe he was too tired to complain; you weren’t sure.

Stumbling through the doorway, it felt just as cold as outside, shivers shooting through you. It felt strange just barging into a dead man's home, but you deemed your selfishness just, Arthur’s health at the forefront of your mind. Empty of life, it was, and it made you relax slightly, not having to worry about someone else taking refuge here.

Soon, you could rest your heavy arms; you thought as the bed in the right corner of the house appeared before you like a halo. With the door closing behind you with a slam, you waste no time pulling Arthur with you in clumsy steps, letting him lay down on the soft mattress with a huff, dust flying around you as the bed creaked audibly under his weight. 

Glancing at Arthur, his face was still contorted in pain as it had been since you found him. You carefully lifted his legs on the bed, removing the filthy, wet shoes from his feet and throwing them to the floor. Leaning over him, you touched his freezing cheek, finding him already passed out.

Hastily, you removed the wet clothes from his shivering body, laying them by the foot of the bed as you hurried to drape the sheets as well as some pelts you found over him to warm him up. Looking around, you tried to get your hands on some firewood to warm up the house, thankfully finding some not too long after your search. Your arms complained, though, from the weight already spent from the strenuous day–blisters on your fingers only worsen it. 

The room soon filled itself with an orange glow, bouncing in heavy shadow on the walls, and your whole body huddled close to the fire as you warmed your hands for a moment, not realizing amidst your frenzy that you, also, were almost freezing to death in the chilly night.

It only lasted for a moment, though, the reminder of Arthur making you rise on your tired feet, rummaging through the cupboards and various wardrobes to find some supplies. Luckily, it appeared that the veteran kept quite the supplies on him, which you thanked him for under your breath. Some bandages you were sure you could still use were pushed into your arms, a few tonics that could lessen the pain, and, best of all, coughing medicine. 

Walking back on the creaking floor, you dragged a side table closer to the bed and placed what you had found in your search, running outside quickly to get the water pouch hanging off the mare. 

It wasn’t easy tending to Arthur; the number of hits he had taken was noticeable. Some kicks to his ribs, it seemed, amidst the various other bruises that loitered his skin. Stopping in your tracks, you wondered who could have done this. You hadn’t thought about it until now; your worry for his safety has been on your mind this entire time.

Micha.

The sudden thought of him sullied your mood even further, making you realize that no Pinkerton would leave him at the brink of death like that. Undoubtedly, they would have finished him off or taken him with them, another way to get to Dutch, for sure. 

Cringing deeply at every purple bruise you dragged your finger over, hatred for the man laying his hand on Arthur grew. It was more fierce now than ever, the persistent name-calling and teasing he put him through when the disease started taking its toll not nearly as severe as this. You knew Micha was capable of this; deep down, you had known.

And where was everyone else, you wondered. Thinking logically, everyone had most likely run away the second things went downhill, but Dutch and Charles? Javier? Had they lost Arthur as they escaped from Beaver Hollow? And why did John not return with him if he had been alive?

The questions were running wild in your mind, but you had to put your questions aside for now; there was enough time later to wallow in contempt and confusion. Instead, you focused on cleaning the rest of Arthur’s bloodied face and bandaging the more gruesome gashes on his body. You knew getting him better wouldn’t be easy, but you weren’t ready to give up.

Sighing audibly, you put your head on your knees when you had done all you could and dragged the sheets over his shivering form. Gods, you were tired. It felt like your whole body had been running on spurts of adrenaline until now, and now that you got the chance to sit down, it rushed over you like a tidal wave. The whole ordeal, by any means, had felt like a fever dream.

No, more like a nightmare, you concluded. It was strange, and everything had happened hastily like the time had been fast-forwarded. Quite the difference from now, as the only thing audible was you and Arthur’s breathing and the slosh as the water hit the bridge just outside, time seeming to stand still in the tiny house by the lake.

It felt nice, though, you concluded as your eyes grew heavy. It was like the air around here cleared your sullied head slightly from all the months of stress and worry–gaining some distance even though it wasn’t by much. You could see why the man who had lived here chose to stay, finding the landscape calming yourself. 

Often, Arthur would tell you about the man. Hamish, you believed his name was. A veteran, he said as he stroked your hair, telling you about the days he spent with him, softly lulling you to sleep. You had always found their relationship endearing but were only met with a scoff from Arthur every time you voiced your thoughts about their camaraderie. The idea made you smile.

You turned your gaze toward him, gazing thoughtfully. The swelling on his face was severe but not yet rendering him unrecognizable. You admired him for a moment, the rugged masterpiece under the purple bruises that the harsh strokes of life had always weathered. Yet he had always seemed to have been carved with a pen so beautiful everything it created couldn’t be anything less. Every scar, like poetic verses, had always added to his allure.

In many moments, Arthur’s gaze had been a haven for you, a refuge where you could peer into his most profound thoughts when he kept himself away from you. It was a place where you could find solace amidst all the chaos, a silent dialogue–a gaze that showed what he never said. But now they were closed, and the thought left you sadder than anything.

–

You had tended to Arthur many times before, and even though the scrapes had been nasty, this was something entirely else. His disease only worsened the state of his injuries, taking you ten steps back every time you thought you could see a flicker of consciousness in the following days.

Yet, he remained motionless on the bed for days on forward, awful coughing episodes making him shoot straight up from the mattress. Succumbing to the relentless coughing, it echoed in the room with harsh, hacking sounds. Each one seems to wrack his body, the force evident in how his shoulders tense and his grip tightens on whatever’s within reach, the strain etched on Arthur’s face, lines deepening with each cough. 

Your hands reach his back to reassuringly rub the warm skin, feeling helpless. Unable to stand his pain any longer, you retrieve the cough medicine you put on the side table, the label on the glass bottle promising relief. 

Too out of it to register what you were doing, he only lays there as you pour the liquid down his throat, and as soon as his sore throat swallows the last drops, his eyes flicker close, body relaxing in resignation on the bed.

“You would hate me if you were awake right now.” A breathless laugh left you, hand stroking the hair away from his face as you pondered how long he would stay like this. It seemed that’s what filled your days and nights now, constant worry as you sat plastered by the side of the bed, holding his hand tight as you prayed for whoever would listen to give him back to you. 

Rarely did you take the time to open the various cans loitering the cabins, filled with canned food and other things that would fill your stomach well? Instead, you grew nauseous at the thought of it. You took the chance to spoon Arthur some soup, though, the small moments between sleep and wakefulness, hoping it was enough to give him some energy.

Some nights, when the pain was too much to bear, you would wound yourself around Arthur like a snake, being mindful of his injuries as you rested your head on his chest. You would listen to the slow thumping of his heart that had grown steady, slowly falling into a deep sleep, letting your heart rest, if even for a moment.

–

You were unsure how much time had passed in that house, endless days bleeding into each other. Most time was spent looking after Arthur, and when you weren’t, you were perched on the wooden steps of the house, gazing into the flickering water of the lake. Your bleak eyes always stared heedlessly at the scenery before you, and although beautiful, it did nothing to lighten the intricate knot growing in your chest.

Despite trying to keep your head straight, doubts always come to mind whenever you don’t have your hands full. What if you had been wrong all this time, and Arthur wouldn’t get better? The possibility was big, but you couldn’t imagine doing it any other way as you thought more of it. But all this chaos and energy you put into keeping the very soul of him alive, what if it wasn’t enough? What could you do that would be enough?

You walked down the porch steps with light steps, bending down on the bridge to wash your face, hoping it would ease your mind. While it didn’t, seeing your drained face and bleak eyes greying your features worsened it. You could only sigh as the sight of your exhaust reflected in the water.

“God.” You said, sitting back on your heels as you stared into the distance, horrified. No wonder you hadn’t taken the moment to care for yourself in the drastic days of apprehension, having been too wrapped up in the horrifying complications. With closed eyes, you rinsed your face, refusing to give yourself another lookover as you walked back towards the house.

The sight that you saw when entering through the door made your heart rise your throat. Blue eyes you adored so much were staring back at you, and although laden with fatigue, they were halfway open, gazing at you indescribably.

Quietness followed your surprise, and after a moment of contemplation, Arthur mumbled out under his breath. “Why'd you come back?” 

His question hung heavy in the air; the only answer you could provide him was a face of bewilderment, mouth dry like cotton. 

“I can’t-” As Arthur closed his eyes, a sluggish arm came to rest over his eyes. “-can’t save you now.”

You motioned to speak, but the words were lodged somewhere deep down where you couldn’t bring it up. Instead, you stepped closer to Arthur with small steps, like he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be; you hadn’t been given that hope for the longest time. But he was breathing before you now, moving. 

You were so quiet at this moment you even surprised yourself, but as you crawled your way beside Arthur and draped your arms around his neck as you had done so many times before, you found that the bridge holding your tears at bay had blocked the words so they couldn’t escape you. But the bridge overflowed, tears now running freely down your cheeks as the feeling of his arms finally circled your waist. 

He held you in that cranky, old bed for a long while, drowsy, sunken-in eyes closing in content regardless of his earlier concern, basking in the warmth your body provided his shivery one as his hands memorized you. The sunlight mirrored its way on your skin, the feeling now warm and tender, unlike the cold and empty touch it grazed with you before.

Arthur’s raspy voice pulled you closer in his embrace as he consoled you, tears wetting the skin on his neck as you gripped the strands of his hair tightly in your grasp.

“Hush, now.” He murmured out, voice so comforting it only increased your sobs.

"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe." Whimpering into his shoulder, you gasped for air between your snivels, breathing erratic that grew somewhat more stable as he ran his broad hand over the small of your back, hushing soothingly.

Things seemed to ease up from that day onward, and now that Arthur grew more conscious, you didn’t feel the draft of loneliness waft through you anymore. Still, he wasn’t up on his feet yet, heavily bedridden as the slightest movement could set off his coughing.

While his recovery gladened you something immensely, you could tell it put a heavy strain on his confidence; not used to being so weak and counterproductive. You could see how his eyes faltered when you tended to his wounds and how he avoided your gaze as you helped him eat, a deep confliction noticeable.

In these moments, he grew quieter than he usually was now. It was like he was waiting for something–something that was just out of his reach, putting a distance between you that wounded you deeply. You had to tell yourself many times to give him some time, to provide him with some peace of mind as he recovered from the trauma to both his body and soul.

So, you took the struggles daily, and as you stayed with him, you could see a glimmer of the Arthur you knew–the stubbornness, the humor, the fierce loyalty. But they are fleeting moments, overshadowed by the weight of his conviction that he is destined for a different path that doesn’t intertwine with the life you could offer.

“You know,” He told you one night, surprising you as you were plastered on the chair beside his bed, stroking the back of his hand while deep in thought. “I always felt at peace out here, like the air is different somehow.” He only got a hum as your eyes were locked on his fingers, intertwined with your smaller ones. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” He murmured, staring at the ceiling as he searched for the words to voice his thoughts rightly. “Well, when times grew hard, I thought about it quite a lot.” 

After some time, a small smile graced the corners of your lips, never having heard him be so open with you. You often voiced your wishes to run away together, towards something more fulfilling, something that would ultimately be safe. An ordinary life with Arthur was more than you could ever ask for, always opting to tell him about it late at night when he was too tired to react fully to your words.

It wasn’t possible; you both knew it, so it was only decided as wishful thinking. Also, Arthur always shot the idea down when you steered the conversation that way. He was too loyal to Dutch, finding your words unthinkable, constantly shaking them off as nonsense. Now, if it was because he felt that way or finding the thought hurting too much, you didn’t know. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You spoke quietly, meeting his warm gaze as he stared at you, lifting your hand to his chest, where he placed it against his heart. 

“Mmh. Well, every time I passed here, I thought about you.” He smiled slightly at you, continuing as a rumbling chuckle left him mid-sentence. “Hamish asked about you quite a lot, found you fascinating, he said.”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows, half-endearingly for the thought that Arthur talked about you and half-suprised that you made an impression on the man. “How come?”

“He wondered why a woman like you stayed with someone like me. Said you were doin’ charity work or somethin’ like that.” You rolled your eyes slightly in jest, bringing his hand to your lips as you placed a nimble kiss on the coarse fingers.

“Well, I happen to like doing charity work,” you mumbled against the skin, breath warming the cold tip of his fingers, finding Arthur gazing at you indescribably.

But some days, he let the words that he pondered about day in and day out be heard, and those moments were the hardest for you.

“I don’t understand you.” He would mumble as his head finally began to clear. You told him that John, Abigail, and Jack had likely gone to safety. It made his mouth’s corners chirp slightly, content they got on alright. But as matters turned to you, he suddenly became cold, eyes crinkling when his eyebrows screwed together.

“You get the chance to go and live your life to the fullest, yet you go back to try and save a man that already died a long time ago.” It appeared impossible for him to wrap his head around the thought, looking at you as if you were a scientific experiment. 

“You’re not dying.” 

“YES, I AM!” You gasped slightly as his voice grew loud suddenly, yelling out the words as his hand pointed at you, eyes wide open where he lay glued to the bed. 

“And all I want before I die is to see you safe, and you can’t even give me that!” 

He had never yelled at you like this if he had even yelled at you at all. Arthur had always tended to take the image of the rugged, unforgiving brute, but never had he been that way with you. It was always tender touches, calculating glances, and a sense of utter contentment when you were around–acting like you would break if he didn’t keep calm and collected.

It differed from now, the usually calm sea of his eyes now a stormy whirlpool, harshness lining the edges, and it was pointed towards you. You pulled your hands against your chest nervously, wishing to shrink into the ground to avoid his, to you, unjust fury.

“Stop.” Your voice grew quiet as the air in the room seemed to lessen, eyes shooting towards the ground. 

Groaning, Arthur raised his arms, gasping when he had to support his weight on it. Stepping forward to help him, you were only faced with his palm begging you to stay away. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you,” you reply gently. “Besides, I had to know what happened to you.” 

“Stubborn woman, didn’t I tell you to go? It ain’t safe anymore.” You backed away, not wanting to listen.

“Now I don’t know where the hell Dutch is, where Micha is, which means this is far from over. That’s why I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t stay!” He tried to reason with you, make you realize that your part in this was over.

He felt conflicted. Whenever he thought of you, he struggled between being selfish and thinking of what was best for you and what he needed to do to keep you alive through all of this. On one side, he longed for every part of you to remain with him, but on the other side, he couldn’t stand you being hurt on his behalf more than you had already been. 

He knew he crushed you in the process, it was undeniable, the cries that left you when placed behind Sadie before telling enough–but it had to be done, despite how much he despised himself for putting you through this. You were always so calm and level-headed that he couldn’t be anything more than heartbroken when you called after him that day, the distress so unlike you.

Arthur didn’t like it, which fueled him to push you away even further when he realized you didn’t see reason, deciding that the only plan left was to show you what kind of man he was, or rather, what kind of a man he was to everyone else. 

“This isn’t you talking, Arthur.” 

“What do you mean it ain’t me talkin’?” His face grew red with strain as he spoke, alerting you as you bent down to meet his gaze, placing your hands on either side of his cheek. He scrunched his eyes together, heart pleading to give into you as your ever–so-gentle hands closed around him.

“You're sick, Arthur, and you’ve been beaten to a pulp. Now, I don’t know what transpired on that mountain, and I’m not sure finding out would do me any good, but I thought-'' Stopping in your tracks, you closed your eyes. “I thought you had died, Arthur. I, I cried for you, thinking I would never see you alive again.” 

“I ain’t less than a ghost now, darlin’; you should have left when you had the chance.” He stared tiredly into your eyes and then turned away from you. “You have to accept that. It’d gone much easier if you left me on that mountain.” His heart beat as he voiced the reality of his thoughts, knowing it would hurt you, but the statement was also true.

Silence followed for a long time after that, the turmoil inside you breaking, seeping like blood from the cracks of your heart as you were left staring at the side of his face. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Arthur, but it has never felt like I’ve known you entirely.” While he gazed at you, the fury still raced deep in the blue orbs, coloring them darker with pain. 

“You have a barricade around your heart that I can never breach. And I tried; believe me, I did. For the longest time, I tried to be there for you, be something for you to come home to, to ease your mind that always was off somewhere else, somewhere I could never follow!” Your tone that started quietly grew loud as you spoke, heart racing inside your chest as the words fell like liquid out of your mouth.

“I can’t-” Your voice hitched, angry tears falling unwillingly from your eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in!”

“I don’t need your help!” You could see Arthur close off from you even more, pushing you away as the harshness of his voice cut you like a razor. “I never had!” His voice broke as he yelled, panting as he sat on the bed, hunching forward as frustration rose.

“Arthur!” You felt anger grow in your chest, finding him unbelievable as you swatted at his chest lightly, standing up to put some distance between you, seeing him trailing after you. “I’m done with you telling me to go when all I live for is you!” Fiery and consuming anger flared within you, setting your cheeks ablaze as you spun around to face him.

“Well, I’m over you being so stubborn all the time! Never listen to me when I only want to see you off safe, caring for me like it’s a glimpse of hope that I’ll survive!” A scoff of disbelief left you, staring at him as you almost laughed in shock.

“Me!? Stubborn!?” Your palm found your forehead, voice laced with anger-filled frustration. “That is very rich coming from Mister. I never listen to anyone other than myself!” You paused before you yelled. “Ever!”

“Because I know what’s best, alright!? And I know that you should be far, far away from me!” A fire started to show in his voice, but it also crept into your bones, warmth spreading on your cheeks. 

“Oh, and what?! Find some boring, middle-aged asshole who’ll tie me to the kitchen and make me have tea-party with some lifeless, dreary, pompous, old ladies?!” Your breathing was hectic as the words spilled out in a heated rush.

“Yes, that’s what I want, ‘cause that would mean you would be safe!” He stalked closer, cornering you at the door.

“I’d rather die, Arthur,” you said. “I’d rather die with you than face the long, bleak years of this world alone! You backed away, feeling suffocated when he didn’t give you any space to breathe.

“The only place I feel safe is with you, Arthur!” Your voice broke slightly, gripping his shirt to shake some sense into him. “It’s with you I’ve always felt at home!” Gripping his stubbled cheeks in your palms tightly, you pleaded with him as he gazed into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you; get that through your thick, dumb skull!”

“Stop being so goddamn unselfish and think about yourself for once!” He met your gaze, dark as he stared at you from underneath his brows. “Get out the hell out, leave!” 

You only stared at him, cold shivers like freezing water wrecking through you, backing towards the door as his shadow grew more prominent, stepping unbalanced on his feet towards you. Grabbing your shoulders in his broad hands, he stepped so close that all you could see were his eyes blaring into yours.

“Come on!” He yelled, shaking your body as if to shake some sense into your stubborn mind. “GO!”

Choking on your tears in distress, you were left gasping for air as you tried to breathe, feeling his body falter above yours. The coughs that now raked through him made you sink on the floor with him, and as the blood splattered on your dress, covering your chest in a deep red that contrasted the ivory fabric, you sat on the dirty floor, a man devoid of the will to live anymore laying in your trembling arms. 

After that, you only felt his lips that sought yours, entangling your limbs together like snakes in a snake pit–not a gentle surrender but a clash of hunger, a collision of lips borne from ages of holding back the reality.

Bloodied lips against bloodied lips met in a fierce urgency after taking a quick breath, fueled by the unspoken desires and the acknowledgment that, despite your disagreements, the love you kept for one another was deeply engrained in both of you, hearts unable to stand the hate you felt.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping as if seeking reassurance as the world blurred. Anger melted into a raw vulnerability, frustration giving way to the unspoken plea, and the desperation grew more considerable than it ever had–and as you both pulled away, breaths heavy and gazed locked, the air crackled around you as he instead hoisted you up in his arms so you could fall into each other’s embrace yet again.

Your tears now rubbed their way down Arthur’s cheeks, your breath hitching as sobs still found their way through you. His broad hands pulled you tighter against him, the inner fight that took place in his mind showing as he wanted to push you away, only to draw you closer to his dying limbs.

“You know I ain’t a good man, honey. That ain’t going to change, ever.” His gaze was gravely and serious as he stared into your eyes, an uncanny vulnerability etching them deep down. “This life lives within me; I can’t escape it. I can’t escape the sins that I carry. I’ve done horrible things, things you couldn’t even dream of.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “You know that.”

Your eyes softened as you saw the wrinkles in his face release, finally hearing something real coming from him. “You’re not your sins, Arthur. And even if you were, I’d carry them with you, lighten the burden.” Stroking his cheek with the tips of your fingers, he opened his forever lonely eyes, now staring into yours.

“God, I tried, honey. I tried to get you to leave, talkin’ to you in ways I’ve promised myself I never would–everything to get you to leave.” He pushed your head against his shoulder, resting his head on yours in defeat. “It was harder than I thought, see you cryin’ like that.” Sighing heavily, he continued. “But somehow, you always stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” You mumbled against his skin.

“There’s no mistaking that.” He chuckled, stroking your back. “Everything I do is to keep you safe; you’re so stubborn not to realize that.”

“I’m safe when I’m with you, Arthur.” He didn’t answer you for a while, holding you comfortingly. He felt the strings that held his will up loosen, giving up on trying to push you away, the sight of you sobbing tugging at his heart.

“I feel like all I do is make you cry lately.” Staring at your smaller arms that hugged him, the doubt that he still wasn’t good enough for you clouding his mind. 

“You make me cry when you push me away,” you admitted, your voice steadier now. “It hurts, Arthur.” He sighed, fingers still entangled in your hair, twisting your hair strands with his fingers.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, a concession to the unspoken ache.

“Then stop.” He lifted your head to make you look at him through wet eyes.

“Stop hurting me; I can’t handle it anymore.” He felt like you had shot him right in his chest as you begged him, staring through vulnerable eyes he rarely saw. He had done countless horrible acts in his life, but this was indeed to be pivoted as the worst, never having felt the pang of agony quite so brutal.

He couldn’t tell how long he would live now, down to his last breaths, but he didn’t have the power to keep you away from him any longer, not when you were so adamant about staying. Had you been angrier at him, he was sure you would take your things and leave him, but there was a part of you he so adoringly loved, a part that always seemed to care too much, love too hard. 

Somehow, he praised whoever made you that way because were you not, he would no longer have the light of his life in his arms, even if his time was running out. No longer would he be able to feel the graceful touch of your fingers on his skin and the sparkling in your eyes as you stared up at him in mischief, making him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his miserable life.

Hugging you closer to him, he captured your soft lips in his, feeling the ache only increase as he basked in the way you sighed, relieved. You felt the promise of not pushing you away anymore lingering in the corner of his mouth, dragging you closer to him as hope finally seemed in reach.

–

“And as the last light of day shone through the window, he realized how it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hands, for her eyes were the window to everything he wishes for, and more.” Glancing mischievously into Arthur’s eyes through the pages, you conclude. “The end.”

Pushing the book’s pages close with a loud bang that echoed through the sunlit room dramatically, you presented him with a toothy smile.

“I never took our dear friend for being such a romantic, Arthur.” Raising from the bed, you spun around to face the man who seemed reluctant to let you go, bending down to stare into his eyes cheekily. “Are you sure you went hunting together? With all these books, maybe you spent your time cooped up here reading romance?” A giggle left you as you walked towards the stove, checking on the stew bubbling deliciously, the smell making your mouth water as it passed your nose when you opened the lid. 

Behind you, you could almost hear how Arthur’s eyes rolled back into his head, arms still outstretched towards you. “Sure,” he drawled, staring at you warmly as you teased him. “Our favorite pastime. How did you know?”

His sarcastic tone reached you as the warmth of the cooking burned your tongue slightly when you tried to get a taste, hissing as you dropped the spoon back into the pot. 

“You can’t fool me, Arthur; I know you’re a true romantic.” Pushing your finger against the sore part of your tongue, you turn to face him, resting against the counter. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” You mocked slightly, puffing out your chest as your voice grew into his familiar southern drawl, imitating your earlier talk with him some time ago.

Scoffing at you, he suddenly rose from the bed, the book falling from the floor as he stepped towards you. Perking up at his motion, you found yourself stuck as his arms encased around you, the warm scent of him mingling with the food as he stepped closer. 

Cowering slightly under his gaze, you giggled nervously as you leaned back. “Have you ever heard of personal space?” He didn’t answer you as you jested with him, palms finding each side of your face as his eyes observed you tenderly. 

God, he loved you like this. Ever since your fight, every obstacle that hindered you from growing closer to each other was breached. Every time you laughed, it filled his heart with warmth, finding the life he once fell in love with reaching you again as you settled; the hardest of times now passed.

He couldn’t help it as he pressed against you, sighing deeply as your lips found his in a loving caress, smoothing over one another as the sound of your slight humming broke through the silence. 

It felt like a blessing to have Arthur close again. Some time ago, you feared you had utterly lost him as he remained a shell of who he once was, shielding himself from you and everyone else. Although at ease now, the heavy shadow of his disease still lingered over you like a cloud, most times reminding you of the sad realization that all was not well.

Despite this, you could see how much better he was faring, now both up on his feet and with a sane mind–much more like the man you fell for. At times, the anxiety still clawed its way into your mind, wondering if all of this was too good too last. Although, since both you and Arthur realized that relying your thoughts and fears on one another was fatal if this was going to work, he always kissed your worries away, driving the somber mood gone with his hands.

“Where did you go?” The words rumbled quietly against your lips as your eyes lifted to gaze into his wondering ones, feeling him push your hair behind your ear. You gave him a small smile, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Secret.” You whispered when you felt him lean closer again, the tension growing in sparks around you. 

“Oh, I see. We keepin’ secrets now?” Raising his brows in fake mock, you felt his hands circle your waist so he could lift you around his torso. An innocent smile covered your lips as he hoisted you up, slightly pinching your waist so you let out a breathless laugh.

Stalking back towards the bed, you realized his only plan had been to bring you back all this time, giving Arthur a knowing look. “I am allowed to have some secrets, you know.”

“Are you now?” He smirked at you, kissing your nose before laying you on the soft bed, hovering above you. “I think I know a few ways to get you to speak.” Crawling up your thigh was a hand filled with sinful intent.

“Well, I won’t tell, you brute!!” You laughed as you squirmed against him, wishing his hand away as they traveled further.

“Oh, I’ll show you, brute, darlin´.”

All the wounds and hurt weren’t healed by any means, but as time passed, it started to mend the damage it created. The crumbs that once were so few grew larger and larger, now swapped out with a special love that you were sure was destined just for you and the man who always had it in the palm of his hands–only the need to accept himself in order to let it reach you. 

And while this story certainly isn’t over, the worry about Arthur’s health and the glimmer in his eyes he still kept for the life he had lived and would never escape still existed. You could tell he was aware you saw it, noticing him staring longingly into the wild, fingers flexing with anticipation.

But those were thoughts for darker days. For now, as you lay with Arthur’s arms wound around you and the sparkling of the fire cracking into the silence, you would bask in it for as long as you could. With the soup long forgotten—you realized you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked you, even if it meant your death.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption imagine

[klbwriting]

Surface Tension

Chapter 8: Shot at the Night

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Orm can't do much to help Y/N but he does find someone who can

Note: song is 'Shot at the Night' by the Killers

Taglist: @hyperagitatedcydonian13 @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul @duchcess

We’re breaking all the rules To find that our home Has long been outgrown Throw me a lifeline Cause honey I’ve got nothing to lose Once in a lifetime

“Why did you settle by the ocean if you’re so afraid of water?” Orm asked, sitting on the back porch with Y/N, watching the waves under the moonlight. She was strumming, singing one of her songs. He was starting to recognize them by now and he knew she sang this one because he liked it. She looked at him and shrugged.

“I used to love the water, felt free and happy in it,” she said. “I told you I was accused of something that I didn’t do. I do bare some responsibility for it though, even though it was an accident. Ever since then, I don’t want to go back into the water, but I can’t let myself forget that day. Part of me wonders if it was my fault.” She stopped strumming and set the guitar aside, wrapping a blanket around herself.

“Did you want someone to get hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not your fault, you shouldn’t stay here feeling guilty. What I did…I wanted to hurt people, all of the pain I caused was because I was angry. You didn’t have that malice.” He looked at the water before looking down at his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, instantly calming him.

“Do you remember feeling like that?” she asked. “Do you ever feel like that now?” He shook his head. “Have you tried to make things right?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” he whispered. She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

“You’ll get there, let the guilt go, but keep becoming better. I’ll help you, we are better together,” she said.

Orm startled awake, the memory fading from his dream to his waking nightmare. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, sometime right before dawn. Last he remembered his mother and Arthur were still there making plans on finding some kind of proof of who tried to kill Orm. The footage was enough to clear Y/N of active treason, but she still could be held for conspiracy. Conspiracy to commit treason was a capital offense in Atlantis and she could still be executed if they didn’t find and get a confession from the culprit.

He was alone now with a note from Arthur that they had left to find proof in Atlantis. Arthur planned to talk to Hendrix and Atlanna was going to talk to Y/N. Orm went over to Y/N’s place. He hated to invade her privacy but maybe she had something. He started searching, trying to ignore that her bed was still unmade from where they had been together, her same clothes from her birthday on the floor around it.

“There has to be something,” he muttered to himself as he went through her closet. He moved some boxes out of the bottom and saw a small door, probably another small storage area behind the wall. He was able to pry it open and inside was a bag. He pulled it out and sat on the floor, looking through it slowly. He pulled out the mosaic of her and her father. It was cheap but well made, a product of the lower city where technology to film wasn’t as widely available. He set it aside carefully. Next came out a flyer for Atlantis for All, listing their goals as equal status, better living conditions, and fairness in the workforce. Orm remembered his father telling him that all those below the nobility were lazy, they just wanted people to hand them money and food without doing anything for it. At the time he had agreed, but this notice listed things that anyone would need to survive and thrive, which is what he thought his father wanted for all Atlantians. He set it aside also and pulled out a stack of papers. This was what he needed, letters to and from different people in AfA.

I work from morning until night, I never see my family, yet they still starve…

My mother died because we couldn’t get her a proper doctor, the nobility never have to worry…

My father died of the sickness King Orvax released when I was a child. King Orvax made me an orphan…

We can fix this. There is a way. King Orm’s coronation is on the first day of the Great Migration…

Here is what he needed. He read through the letter, it laid out a plan to protest, nothing else. They were to have Y/N sing, and Hendrix volunteered to bring the cracker. This was almost enough, but Orm needed something else. Aria was mentioned as one of the leaders of the group. He had to find her; she might have more proof.

Orm wasn’t sure where else to go so he went to the café. It was empty except for Y/N’s friends when he arrived. They were all glaring at him. When he walked in Dean came up and punched him in the face. It didn’t hurt, but Orm wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back a step. Dean was shaking his hand, wincing. He had probably broken a couple fingers. Aria pushed past him.

“Get out tyrant,” she demanded. Orm stood his ground. “We know you did something to her, no one can find her.”

“I didn’t do anything, but Hendrix took her back to Atlantis to face trial for treason,” he said. Aria froze.

“You’re lying, you gave her up,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“If I gave her up I would be on my way to trial too. I’m a fugitive just as much as the two of you,” he said. “We need proof that Hendrix was the one who tried to kill me. I found a letter in her things with the plan for the coronation day, it says Hendrix was to get the cracker, but we need more than that, anything that makes it sound like he alone planned the attempt.” Aria was breathing deep, trying to remain calm.

“How do we know you won’t just take the evidence and destroy it?” Vincent called out. “What if you want to use her to get yourself pardoned?” Orm didn’t have time for this bullshit.

“Because I love her!” he yelled. “Because she is everything to me and I won’t stand by while they execute her. I can’t go back, no one will believe me if I say she is innocent, I’ll just get thrown in a cell next to her, but my brother is king. If I am able to get proof to him he can set this right.”

Aria watched his speech and nodded before motioning for him to come with her. She lived only a few houses down from the café and she also had a bag full of letters. She kept meticulous records and correspondence, including from Hendrix. Hours later she jumped up.

“I found something,” she said, setting the letter down in front of Orm at her kitchen table. By then everyone had joined them, watching. “This is from Hendrix, the day before the coronation. I think I received it by mistake. I never read it because well, I hated Hendrix and anything he had to say was worthless to me.” She pointed to a spot that clearly incriminated him.

“These people are idiots. They’re going to give me the crown and not even realize it. Tomorrow Orm will be dead and I’ll be king,” Orm read. This was perfect.

“Bless that asshole’s giant ego,” muttered Amanda from the couch. Orm stood and hugged Aria.

“I know you hate me but thank you,” he said. He looked between her and Dean. “I am sorry for the tidal wave, for everything. I was wrong and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He left it at that, hurrying out of the house and calling Arthur to tell him he had proof.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries3

[ceruleanwhore]

So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics floating around the Cybird/Ikemen fandom spaces about pregnancy or having children, but I have yet to see any childfree content at all, as @sevenai pointed out in a post they made about ikevamp. As such, I’ve put together a list of childfree headcanons for all the ikevamp men for those of us who want such things.

Napoleon — After the tragedy of his only legitimate son’s premature death during his life, I think it’s perfectly plausible that he would not want to try to produce another child of his own. Besides, the children he teaches with Isaac do more than enough to fill the void and warm his heart. I imagine that, at some point, the topic of children would come up and, when his partner would nervously disclose that she doesn’t actually want to have any of their own, he would feel relief.

Leo — Being in a relationship with anyone at all (especially a human) is already more than enough heartbreak, I don’t think he could handle producing a child of his own that he would then have to watch die someday even though no parent should ever outlive their child.

Mozart — This man is obsessive about cleanliness and absolutely cannot tolerate noise. There’s no way in hell he’s ever having a kid.

Arthur — He had five children in his life and so I feel like, for him, he’s already done that and sufficiently fulfilled that desire, so now he doesn’t feel the need to do it over again in this second life. I think he’d be willing to give it a go if that’s what his partner wanted, but I also think he’d be just as content not to.

Vincent — I get that in ikevamp he’s a sweet boy, but he has a past full of tremendous mental health struggles, and I think he’d be afraid of passing that to any potential children. I also think he would be worried about his ability to care for a child.

Isaac — Dude’s already worried he’s going to snack on Comte’s ferret or something, like being in a relationship with a human is PLENTY for him to worry about. Also, he’s a good person who views himself as a dangerous monster, which means he definitely won’t be having kids any time soon. Plus, like Napoleon, he has their little gaggle that they teach and that is genuinely plenty for him. Yeah, I think he’d be perfectly happy to have his partner tell him that there is no desire for children on their part.

Theo — I think he’d be more apathetic about children, where he doesn’t really have a desire for them but he would be willing to have kids if that’s what his partner wanted. He already has his partner, his bother, and his career, and that is more than enough for him to be happy.

Jean — First off, Jean is 19. Secondly, he hates himself and what he is, like Carlisle from Twilight. Maybe he would’ve wanted kids in life, but there is no way in hell he’d want to create half vampire spawn.

Will — Given that he was always running away from his wife and kids in his life, I think it’s safe to assume he never wanted them, even before he died. I think, given the context of his real marriage with Anne, he would be grateful to discover that his partner doesn’t want to have kids with him and it would be another indicator to him that this relationship is actually a good match.

Comte — I think he has no desire of his own for children and I also think he is hella devoted to whoever he chooses to be in a relationship with and will do anything to make them happy, so even if he did want kids he still would 100% fold to a childfree partner. There’s also that element of tragedy like with Leonardo that we’ll also see with Vlad.

Dazai — He’s either actively suicidal or very recently got better and definitely does not feel like he has the capacity to care for a child. Also, someone who hates themselves so much they’d choose to become a vampire solely so they could live long enough to kill their infant self is definitely not going to want to reproduce. Like Isaac, he sees himself as dangerous and I don’t think he would trust himself with something like having kids and I think that being in a relationship is already massively stressful for him.

Sebastian — He has a terminal illness, so there could be concern about passing whatever it is to any future children. He also probably would just not want to have to subject children to dealing with his inevitable, premature death. Even without all that, like if he can get magically cured by Faust or something, I don’t really see him actively wanting to have children, like I think he’d be more of a “travel the world with your partner in a delightfully comfortable DINK arrangement” kind of guy.

Vlad  — Yeah I think he’d 100% just be a “whatever you want” guy who values his partner above all else, including potential people who don’t exist yet.

Faust  — He’s kinda weird with kids tbh in a way that reminds me of myself — uncomfortable but kind of nice and gives in easily to whatever they want — which makes me think he doesn’t really like them and doesn’t really want them. I could see him kind of wanting to reproduce with a human as an experiment, but I really don’t see him genuinely desiring to have children.

Charles  — I get the vibe that he’ll be a very possessive yandere once he’s in a relationship and won’t want to share his partner with anyone at all, including potential children of their own. He actually gives me the impression that even if his partner came to him and shared that they genuinely wanted to have children with him, he might insist they not because of this trait of his.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp jean #ikevamp william #ikevamp comte #ikevamp le comte #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp faust #ikevamp charles #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #childfree

[secretdiaryofcrowley]

Where we left off: Shax, newly anointed Duchess of Hell, jumpscared our hero in his bentley….

…. and apparently, she wants to bribe me with liquor-filled chocolates to come back to Hell. I’m not going back, but first I puncture the chocolates with a pen to drink all the liquor. Oh, and did I mention I’m small? (the puncturing and drinking thingie wouldn’t work too well if I was my usual size).

“Stop deluding yourself, Crowley. Deep inside, you already know that Aziraphale left for one reason only. You are a demon and you will never be good enough for him.” Shax tilts her head to the side in one of those familiar bird-demon gestures and watches me intently with one eye.  “How does that make you feel, Crowley? Hurt? Angry? Will you let an angel treat you this way? Break you and cast you away like a used toy?”

I clench the pen and ram into the next piece of chocolate like a tiny lance. This is ridiculous. She doesn’t know the least thing about my angel. However delusional Aziraphale may be for believing he can make a difference in Heaven, deep down his intentions are good. He never wanted to hurt me.

“You gave up everything just to be with him, and you’ve risked everything, even your own destruction. And at the first grasp of power – he’s gone!”

No. No, no, no, no! This isn’t about power. Aziraphale doesn’t care about power at all. He wants to change the system from within. He wants to turn Heaven into the place of light, he always believed it’s meant to be.

But in this belief, there’s no place for a demon. There would have been a place for the angel I was, but I can no longer be that angel.

Shax’ eyes glitter. “I’m not offering you a job, Crowley, I’m offering you a chance at revenge. Rise from the ashes and use that burning fury inside you against the one who wronged you. Unite with me and strike him down on the battlefield in the Great War to come.”

Revenge? Burning fury? I almost choke on the burning whiskey running down my throat. Course, I understand where this is going, she wants to me to direct my anger against Aziraphale. She wants me to become the big bad demon in shiny black armour raining fire and destruction in his unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Bloody Heaven, I can almost picture this. Aziraphale and me having a face-off in the midst of battle. He’s probably wearing something silvery-white and carrying – I don’t know – some flaming sword or lancea-longini-spear-of-destiny-thingie. And then we’d look into each other’s eyes and stab each other very dramatically with Heaven and Hell watching. And maybe, just maybe, we’d die even more dramatically in each other’s arms with white and black wings entwined.

There’s only one little mistake in this scenario, we did this whole silver knight - dark knight scenario a thousand years ago in King Arthur’s Court and it hasn’t become any less pathetic since then. And second – a crank handle isn’t really made for stabbing. Or fighting in wars for that matter.

“Sorry, Shax.” I’m back to normal size now, sitting in my usual seat behind the wheel. “Nice career option, just not seeing myself there. Anyway, thanks for the booze and tell Hastur, I said ‘hi’”.

She looks at me incredulously. “This choice will have consequences. If you stand aside like a coward, you will be crushed like one.”

“There are always consequences.” I shrug. “But it’s not cowardice, although you probably don’t believe me.”

“What is it, then?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I just don’t feel it, Shax. All this silly power play for rank and influence and who-get’s-the-biggest-throne-and-the-shiniest-medal. I know, we demons are supposed to live for this, but I just don’t care.  And, you know, that eternal-fiend-thing with the angels? Don’t feel that either.”

“Earth has made you weak.” She shakes her head. “All of us will assemble and take our positions in the last stand. Like on a chess board. If you don’t take yours, you will be totally insignificant in the game to come. And my offer was better than anything you could've hoped to achieve. You could’ve been my Second-in-Command, once I sit on Beelzebub’s old throne.”

She can’t know that she’s already the second person to offer me a position like that. The third, actually, if you count “The United States of Beelzebub”.

No.

No Heaven for me. No Hell for me. I’m done.

“I’m perfectly fine with being insignificant.” I want to add more, but she’s already vanished.

Anyway, I’m keeping the coffee. Or in my case, the liquor.

~*~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

#good omens #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #shax #shax duchess of hell #crowley's crank handle #demon power play #crowley doesn't want to be a chess figure

[oneatlatime]

The Cave of Two Lovers

I always wanted to be a frog on a leaf.

Does Aang have chaps?

Instructed to hold his arms closer together, Aang immediately spreads them as far apart as physically possible.

Hippies!

Chong's wife is not called Cheech. That's a travesty.

Between the 90s boy band hair and the quadrupedal underwear, Sokka is not looking his best this episode!

Uncle, were you watching? Did you see? Lookit Uncle I even threw in some fist shaking at god and a dramatic tumble. Did you watch? Lookitmeeeeeeee.

Seems like it's Zuko's turn with the brain cell. Iroh plays the dumbass a lot but he can't seriously be contemplating risking poisoning himself while he has zero resources.

Appa getting a turn as the couch rather than the whip. Sweet braids.

"Oh it's a real legend" is a remarkably accurate statement when speaking of oral folklore. Real v. Fake legends are an actual thing!

Did anyone watch Arthur growing up? Anyone remember the Crazy Bus song? I feel like this Tunnel song is what Crazy Bus was trying to be.

I like her skirt. Actually all of their clothes are pretty neat.

Why does Appa hate going underground?

That's got to be watercolour.

The stick is a better catch than the fish. It's a damn good stick.

Zuko actually managing to admit that he needs help! Or rather, that they need help. That's growth! Maybe that's why Iroh poisoned himself? Or maybe he's just having a dumb moment? Two consecutive dumb moments?

Do you think being unwanted in literally every country on earth including his own is going to be enough to convince Zuko that maybe his nation isn't so great?

Her earrings are bells. She probably deafens herself when she walks.

Why is the science guy freaking out about curses?

Chong's necklace flowers keep drastically changing size depending on how close up the shot is.

Average fire nation soldier is superstitious. I bet they can use that. And this guy's hands are huge. Also those flying grappling hook chain things are, in my opinion, the fire nation's greatest combat advantage. Who needs bending when you have those?

The math-defying torches apparently work like strike anywhere matches.

Definitely watching this one on a CRT when I have the chance. Too dark otherwise.

Can you do that? Turn a map of the paths you've taken into a solvable maze? Don't you need to see all possible paths to solve a maze?

Three things: a) I like Song's voice actress. Very pretty voice, matches the face well. b) Zuko being terminally awkward when needing to lie is something that's been consistent since the third episode. He really needs to work on that. c) There's a whole world of visual storytelling in the fact that, when hastily required to look natural, Zuko defaults to parade rest.

The latest fashion in men's neckwear.

I mean technically yeah, Zuko's dad is fighting in the war, but Good Lord are he and Song bonding over traumas from the 100% opposite directions.

They snuck in a Bob Dylan joke!?!?!

Poor Appa is having a time of it this episode.

Sokka would rather die in a self-inflicted rock slide than hang with the hippies. That's a very Sokka thing.

The lighting here is beautiful. All warm and glowy.

Poor Song. It's borderline embarrassing to watch how wrong she is. But at the same time, she's completely right. The Fire Nation did hurt Zuko. But the Fire Nation is Zuko. But Zuko was hurt by the Fire Nation. Zuko's brain must be inside out right now.

No touchy.

Why is Zuko surprised by her burns? Did he think his nation took over most of the world by asking nicely? Seriously, did he?

It's good to finally see more burns. Well, not good, but logical. I think I ranted last episode about why I was so surprised by the lack of burns.

I'm with Sokka on this one. There is a (very limited) time and a (very tiny) place for singalongs, and this isn't it. Also I keep thinking that Momo is wearing an Adidas tracksuit.

The last thing cave walls see before death.

What do you know, it is a real legend.

Pretty. This whole sequence is inky.

I love how this show does badass bitches.

How on brand is it that the city founded by think-outside-the-box badgermole wrassling innovators is now ruled by Bumi? Original thought, badass earthbender, giant murderous rabbit; he fits right in.

No kissing until you're 35. What a face though.

Aang STOP TALKING YOU CANNOT WIN!!!

What's wrong with you is that you're 12. No one is smooth at 12.

According to the episode The Storm, the avatar does in fact represent hope to Zuko, but Song just can't stop putting her foot in it. Literally any other earth kingdom refugee would come away from an evening with Song feeling renewed hope, but she's unintentionally and unknowingly hit pretty much every one of Zuko's sore spots. This must have been a very frustrating evening for him.

In case we forgot that Zuko was the villain, he steals a horse bird. Iroh why are you ok with this?

Ouch.

Where is your chin

Chong was right. All they did need to do was play music. These guys would probably kill me if I tried, but gosh they're so cute I want 5.

How many string instruments does Chong have stashed in his robe? His improv skills are top notch though.

You want me to believe that a couple of millennia of badgermoles rearranging things as they see fit has not altered the path of the crystals?

I feel ya buddy.

Sokka assuming his rightful throne. King of the Badgermoles.

Badgermoles have elf ears.

"Really? We let huge ferocious beasts lead our way." I love this line.

Appa's such a good friend. Settling in for a long listening session.

"So are you guys going to come to Omashu with us?" "Nope." "Ok." *fucks off into the sunset* Now that's how you write out a character.

NOOO BUMI!!!

Do you think the hippies knew? Is that why they didn't want to go to Omashu? It would be totally on brand for them to know the whole time and not tell.

Final Thoughts

Well that was a hell of a bait and switch ending. Supreme goof A-plot, Zuko having his dearly held beliefs dragged through the mud B-plot, and then suddenly *BOOM* overarching plot.

So is this season going to be the 'step on Zuko until he's decent' season? Because he's got a long way to go.

Why was Iroh being so stupid in the beginning? Does he have a blind spot where tea is concerned? He made Zuko look like the reasonable one. That's quite a feat.

At first glance, Sokka got to shine in this episode, but actually it was Chong who was right all along. There was a real legend about a secret tunnel, the solution was to trust in love, both as Aang & Katara did and as Chong's group tried (love songs). And that kid WAS the avatar! Three for Three!

I'm still not a fan of Aang & Katara being involved romantically (mostly because they're BABY), but I love the way they related to each other this episode. Their interactions felt 100% natural. What tween hasn't put their foot in their mouth around their crush?

Someone give Appa a hug. You know what? Give Momo a hug too. He worked hard as a wolfbat early alert system.

Speaking of Appa, are his underside sections furry? Covered in short grey fur? Or are they hard grey armoured plates? Are they shell or skin?

I've noticed that animal noises come in three flavours in this show: Appa grumbles, Momo trills, or wolfbat hisses. Most animals make variations of these three.

Are we sure Song hasn't been hitting the White Jade herself? Those are pretty similar.

Poor Song is really crapped on this episode. All she did was be compassionate and she gets her horse thing stolen. It makes sense that she wouldn't try to retrieve her horse thing, both because she's too kind, and because it's just her and her mom against two fairly rough guys. If this is the season of Zuko improvement, how many more innocents like Song will be crapped on in the name of improving Zuko?

Chong's robe's sleeve kind of hangs off his waist, since he's rocking the one shoulder look. I thought Bato was rocking that same look in his episode, and spent the whole episode looking for where he stashed his sleeve, but I couldn't find it. But now I see Chong with the same look and he definitely has extra sleeve trailing. So did Bato cut off his sleeve? Is he wearing the robe he was wearing when he got injured and his sleeve burned off? Is there a known way to tuck robe sleeves in inconspicuously and the fact that we can see Chong's is a bit of visual storytelling pointing to the hippies' general scatterbrained nature? Am I overthinking this?

I liked this episode! Definitely going on my rewatch list! The hippies are just the right amount of stupid, Zuko gets a break from being a shouty jerk, and Aang and Katara get to be just awkward kids (albeit while trapped in a life or death situation - priorities guys). Poor Sokka, Appa, and Song have a pretty bad time. But Sokka being terrorised by stupidity makes for funny tv.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the cave of two lovers #avatar the last airbender

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I'm curious on your take on the Ratman and ratlings' relationship with animals. Do you think they'd keep any and risk becoming attached? I feel this would outwardly effect Jack the most considering his love for all the weird shit they got in Australia but I think Arthur is also the type to be really hurt by the loss of a pet. But in a dad way. Like he'll begrudgingly take in the fucking cat one of his kids brings to his home out of the rain and the animal ends up being his partner in crime. He's stone-faced when it passes away and it takes a while for the pain to subside but he doesn't let it show for even a second. I don't imagine Matthew could handle the mental load of losing a beloved pet. Alfred is too fucking busy to properly care for one. Zee probably has a few birds whose babies she cares for for generations maybe a kiwi lol

TW for pet death

Alfred has had horses his entire life. He's got a ranch in his name somewhere where the descendants of the pair of horses, Liberty and Justice, that Matt gave him during the Civil War live. Justice got shot out from under him in 1864 but he went full Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie, dropped dead of idk, the shits and when he was feeling better Liberty was getting her hump on with a local stallion so he just made a ranch there and their descendants still fuck amongst the grasses or however the prairies work. Liberty is immortal because fuck I already killed one horse this post and I'm already emotional.

Matt... He just kept trying. Nations have semi immortal pets. All he wanted was a goddamn friend. François gave him a lap dog when he was little. It died in its first Canadian winter as was often the fate of anything smaller than a terrier. He tried a newfie. It drowned. Finally, around the 1780s he had a little black and white working dog he named Sel et Poivre who lasted a decade. But eventually he got ripped up by a wolverine and Matt was damned to eternal loneliness until Arthur had mercy on him and got attached enough to the wee fat house lion he named Flufferton he didn't die. Matt's best friend for awhile and favourite heat source at his father's. Cue 1980 with Canada finally getting it's full independence and Jan dropping him like a hot rock and Alfred got him a Samoyed puppy in the aftermath. I've called this dog Kuma, Bud and Buckwheat before. The neighbor backs over him by accident! and Matt low-key has the worst mental breakdown of his life like he's 20 seconds from getting the axe and ending up in grippy sock jail. Then the pupper pops up licks him and Matt has the happiest sob fest for like a solid week. Finally! Immortal pupper. No more perishing.

Jack is a fun example because he's very in tune with the circle of lire and his favourite pet was a tortoise named Harriet he's had on and off since 1830 when she died in 2006. So when she finally died of natural causes he was absolutely fucking devastated. Didn't get out of bed for a week after the funeral, cried his eyes out every time he saw a turtle or tortoise for years. She was his baby since he was a baby. Closest thing to losing a childhood dog a nation can express. He had plenty of snakes and spiders and dogs that passed on and they made him sad but oh Harriet 😭.

Zee has a budgie named Pavlova that Jack got her when she finally dropped the family name. Just so she can say she owns Pavlova. It spent a week with Uncle Matt during hockey season and went back to Mum telling everyone, "Give your balls a tug, tit fucker" and making nondescript sobbing sounds. And the singular devotion with which New Zealand intervenes in its bird's well-being? Oh yeah, they're her children. Entire genomes of Kiwi-birds and Kakapo and Kea. She personally hunts rats that threaten their population like it's 1916, flashlight between her teeth, knife in one hand, Arthur sweating like mad somewhere. Bird watching is something she and the old man have in common so he probably does jokingly call them her grandchildren. Zee gets beat in the shin by a screaming kiwi-bird, and he just picks it up like, "Now that's no way to treat your mother, lad! Mind your manners." Before it toddles off and any on-looker is just pure, what the fuck.

#the ask box || probis pateo #arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats

[avelera]

So "Doctor Faustus" already being out by the time Dream came by in 1589, is...uh, possibly a bit fudged for the sake of the story in Sandman, but I'm thinking about Hob canonically calling bisexual legend Kit Marlowe a great playwright, and the fact that Doctor Faustus is literally about a handsome demon seducing a more or less normal guy into selling his soul in exchange for an extraordinary life, including temporary immortality during the agreed 24-year span (including a scene where Faustus survives a murder attempt and holds his own severed head in a scene that I'm sure made Hob fuckin' blanche wondering if his secret had gotten out).

And I'm also thinking about how there's a strong running theme in "Faustus" of Mephistophilis steering Faust away from getting married. There is no Marguerite (Faust's wife in other versions) in Marlowe's version of the story which is really interesting. Especially because there's a rather strong whiff of jealousy (especially with Arthur Darvill's performance) around Mephistophilis urging Faust away from marriage, saying he'll bring him fine courtesans, or even (eventually) Helen of Troy instead, but definitely don't get married.

And I'm also thinking about my (and others') emerging fanon that Hob had his own written-or-unwritten fanfic of Faust x Mephistophilis that was heavily based on his own fantasies around his dark and mysterious stranger who gave him immortality. ("This could be us, but you keep fuckin' leaving after 5 minutes...") and a thought occurred to me.

So it's really weird that Hob just happens to get married within a few years, at most, of his 1589 meeting with Dream.

Now, my main assumption around this, Watsonian/in-universe, is that Hob wanted to demonstrate success to his stranger. So within a few years of the 1589 meeting, he looked at the date and went, "Oh shit, if I really wanted to show off I should get married and have an heir on the way, that's the true mark of success in my era!" (Which, of course, Dream is spectacularly unimpressed by and/or projecting his own miseries onto Hob's inevitable despair once they die.)

But now I'm thinking about "Doctor Faustus" and also kind of wondering... timeline fudging aside where he could have conceivably seen the play (or some early version of it while Marlowe was writing it) and if that could lend to a slightly alternative reading of why Hob was in a rush to get married before his meeting with his stranger?

Either:

My tall dark and possibly-not-the-Devil-then-again- the Devil-could-just-LIE stranger is coming. Faustus in "Doctor Faustus" passed up on a chance to possibly have his soul saved by not being married. So it might be a good idea to be married just in case, y'know, for the sake of my soul and so I'm not tempted by being single.

(The more Dreamling-shippy one) My tall dark and handsome stranger can't possibly be interested in me. In fact, it's kind of pining and pathetic to still be nominally single when he comes by, especially after 200 years. Talk about desperate. Maybe it's better if I'm married, that way I don't look desperate and it's not like he'd ever be interested, right? But if he does seem annoyed that I'm married, I will have definitely learned something.

Only for Dream to peace out of there almost immediately upon meeting happily-married-Hob.

Now, do I think canonically that Hob was sort of testing the waters by getting married? Not especially cuz it's an ass-backwards way to go about it, if it was a consideration at all, I'd see it as more hedging to the tune of not looking desperate, rather than trying to make Dream jealous or anything.

But I would bet (or at least put in a fanfic) that Hob added the fact that Dream did not seem especially enthused about his marriage into his little mental list of "Maybe? But surely not. But maybe?" as it emerged around, say, 1789 along with all the other later evidence of possible interest.

#dreamling #the sandman #sandman meta #doctor faustus #all the links are included in this post fyi

[ssolessurvivor]

SHARE AT LEAST FIVE SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR MUSE, OR THAT YOU ASSOCIATE WITH YOUR MUSE'S CHARACTER ARC. Including lyrics is optional.

Tagged by : @alonggoodbye <3 <3

Tagging : @wehavefoundthestars @vuulpecula @apurekindness @isleprince @goldenboybarracuda @inkedmuses (for edward?) @respondedinkind @mistrdctr and you!

I know ten is a lot but it just seems fitting for him <3

Poison - Zevia : I'm in the water / far from the surface / fighting is useless / how can I do this? / it's getting harder / finding a purpose / inviting the voices / I'm my own poison

Numb - The Used : I'm better off in silent mode / safe from the outside overload / can't really shut it off / I got all these thoughts making me unwell

Monster - Starset : this is the world you've created / the product of what I've become / my soul and my youth / seems it's all for you to use

Free Falling - James Arthur : I'm falling through the cracks as I watch the world go by / with my head against the glass like a jealous guy / maybe I'm free falling / maybe I'm out of time / tell me I'm worth something

Healing Hurts - BLU EYES : I thought slowly I'd start feeling better / I'd stitch my life back together / one day at a time / in one long straight line

Bow Down - I Prevail : you will never know, it's the price I pay / look into my eyes, we are not the same / yeah, this is where you fall apart / yeah, this is where you break (basically this whole album and their new one, True Power, is Logan's anthems in various forms)

Train Wreck - James Arthur : you can say what you like, don't say I wouldn't die for you / I, I'm down on my knees and I need you to be my God / be my help, be a savior who can...

My Demons - Starset : I cannot stop this sickness taking over / it takes control and drags me into nowhere / I need your help, I can't fight this forever / I know you're watching, I can feel you out there

Mercury - Sleeping at Last : I know the further I go / the harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed / and somehow I've fallen in love / with this middle ground at the cost of my soul

Chandelier - Sia : but I'm holding on for dear life / won't look down, won't open my eyes / keep my glass full until morning light / 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight (this one is more along the lines of when he goes and does more risky things that could inadvertently lead to triggers, like partying too hard with his friends in which case he does allow himself to maybe drink too much, or staying out too late and not sleeping enough, this is his reckless anthem and his running anthem)

#(what makes you unbreakable) headcanon #music is a huge thing for me when writing characters and Logan has a list of songs that inspire me to write him #these are but a few for various reasons each one is so different #these are so much fun I love doing these and explaining why music makes me think of what and why #anyways gonna go have dinner date with my hubby be on later maybe <3

[farewell-superiors]

I’m having so many thoughts about @ammstify’s persona 6 idea for it being about nature and being based on Arthurian legend but as more of a spin-off but I’m in the “pacing while brainstorming” phase which means that I have too much energy to sit down and actually write down my ideas so I may as well start a post that’s like… just a bunch of ramblings about ideas. Have so at least it’s WRITTEN DOWN and I won’t forget anything. If I think enough I might even make a fanfic in the style of steal the truth (which you should absolutely read btw it’s genuinely one of the best video game adaptations with how well it integrates persona’s calendar mechanic and social links into its story structure) but that would require a lot of foresight and planning (hence why u want to WRITE SHIT DOWN)

Anyway here goes. Spoilers for something that I just made up but might make into an actual thing in the future I guess lol

The themes are about growth (there's LOTS of plant imagery), moving on, and how it gets better (the sun will always rise, darkest before dawn, etc. (there's a lot of day/night imagery as well)), and it looks at the relationship between humans and the environment.

The setting will probably be Kyoto, or at least some city, but I'm undecided about whether the characters are high school or uni students. Both have their pros and cons and I just have to figure them out. I'm leaning towards Uni?

The actual persona elements take place in the sea of souls, although it's more accurate to say the field of souls, as it's an undending field of grass, flowers, and the odd tree/hill, with every bit of flora representing a life. Select people will travel to the sea of souls in their sleep, but sleeping in the sea of souls won't get you out, so if someone is there without a way out, it looks like they're in a coma. If they happen to die in there (haven't completely figured out shadow mechanics yet, don't know if day/night cycles in the sos would be over a few weeks (to represent the collective unconscious) or over a characters journey (because it's cool imagery)) the body will start growing vines and leaves as their pulse slowly fades.

One way to get out is through the velvet room: In the sea of souls there is a battlefield, with velvet blue warbanners rising amongst the bloodstained foliage, and in the centre is a familiar long nosed man sitting on a particularly comfy looking rock, with a warrior clad in a deep blue leather armour brandishing a spear and shield. As neither protagonist is a wild card (whoops spoiler) Igor doesn't act as the guy who fuses your personas, he's like a guide both through your journey and on your way back to the real world. Maybe belladonna and nameless are also there, who knows.

Persona users have a body part wrapped in foliage, vines, flowers, and the like (the location can be thematic, it’s as if wrapped in chains), and when summoned the foliage chains break and rapidly grow into the summoned persona.

Protag A (who I shall refer to as Sun because that’s their arcana) is a kind young man who was diagnosed with cancer. This diagnosis comes shortly after moving to a new city to start university, so he rightly is in a lot of turmoil and feeling alone. One of the way he copes is by having a fairly dark cynical sense of humour, contrasting with his kind and caring personality. I’m not set on a subject he does, I’m thinking natural sciences, it’s got a wide range of topics and, most importantly, MATHS (this isn’t a joke). His starting persona is Arthur, his second awakening is Arturus Rex, both of the sun arcana, and his ultimate persona is Excalibur, of the world arcana.

Protag B (who I shall refer to as Moon) is a standoffish young woman in the year above sun. An abuse survivor, her father (her only living relative) recently was jailed for what he did, but she still holds a deep contempt for humanity who she thinks has failed her. Initially forced to interact with sun because of a scheme where second years help first years, she stays with him because of a shared goal once they enter the sea of souls. Her story arc is about growing to care for others, learning to see the good in people, and stopping seeking revenge. Her starting persona is Lancelot, who evolves into white knight, both of the moon arcana, and her ultimate persona is Galahad of the world arcana (I’m intentionally hiding some things but oh well lol. The personas are thought out, I’ll tell you that).

I’ve not settled on social links or party members, I’ve got a few ideas, like Sun’s maths professor (who would either be magician or hierophant) and the Lovers arcana, but nothing concrete.

Getting into real endgame spoilers now, the premise is that two gods, Pendragon and Morgan le Fay, are arguing over whether humanity should suffer or not. Pendragon thinks they're a stain on the world and should be wiped out, while Morgan le Fay thinks they should live in eternal bliss. Given that the themes are about moving on and growing, neither is very good, or rather, life is a combination of the two. They're represented by the moon and the sun in the sea of souls, when Pendragon is "winning" it's night, when Morgan is "winning" it's day. towards the end of the story the party beats Pendragon without realising that now Morgan le Fay is able to act unchecked and so the regular course of life grinds to a halt. During the course of the story each protagonist holds one in themself, Moon with her contempt for humanity holds pendragon, and Sun with his wish to live with his friends forever holds Morgan, but once Moon starts to see the good in humanity her mind boots out pendragon (hence why they fight him), and once Sun accepts that a life in stagnation isn't a life living at all, his mind boots out Morgan (hence why they fight her). Basically, I really really really like the ideas of third semester and am doing something similar lol.

At the start Sun and Moon are visited by a Doctor informing him of his cancer diagnosis and a chief prosecutor "congratulating" her about her father's loss in court respectively. Both talk about their fascination with/contempt of humanity, and end with "do you agree?", a cloaked agreement to a contract that makes them their champion, for these are Morgan le Fay and Pendragon in human forms. A side effect of tricking them into agreeing to a contract, however, is letting them into the velvet room, a mistake that would lead to both of the gods' downfall.

Ah shit I haven't even tackled how dungeons and stuff work. I know at least the last one is gonna be called Avalon.

I think I'm just gonna go ahead and post this for now, I might edit it later so uhhh stay tuned I guess

#Don't know what I'd call it though #Persona Green???? #lmao #Actually remember “the green man” as that's an actual thing from folklore that'd work really well #Persona #Now I just need to think of names for everyone lmao #persona au #ocs #Oh also I don't know if this is obvious but #uhhhh #pendragon is a literal dragon LMAO #I know that's just arthur's last name but I really want a dragon final-ish boss soooooooo #fuck off

[agere-fandom]

regressor!kieran duffy!!

fictional agere challenge

day 8: an obscure character that you hc as a regressor

note; OMGOMGGGGG- it's been a lil while!! But on the meanwhile, little Kieran!! I wish he had more time in the game and DIDN'T die, but were gonna ignore that for now :) I love Kieran so and I wish he wasn't so underrated :((( like he needs some love guys so yeah!! baby Kieran my beloved :3 (also wished i got a better photo but this was the best i could find because the rest were TERRIBLE D:)

headcanons; (cw; nursing!! SFW!!)

Kieran is a baby/infant regressor and his age range is 5 months - 3

He is probably the most shyest out of the gang of regressors and would rather like to do his own thing than be with anyone else, mostly because he's scared. And also very sensitive. Like anytime someone gives him a bit of attitude or raises their voice, he is in tears

⬇️ He also gets REALLY scared if something about the O'Driscoll's, since I imagine him having a REAL hard time while being with them. And I imagine someone like Sean or Micah giving him a jump scare with one of those paper masks with Colm O'Driscoll's and it leaves poor Kieran in SHAMBLES (and also if you've seen the fanart, you'll know what I mean)

Even with his quite self, he's found himself loving nature. Like he's such a nature boy and he loves any place that's like a creek or any muddy area. And he doesn't know better, to be honest. Like he could be gone for hours, and he's been behind the camp just playing in the mud or trying to eat what grubs or worms are in his hand reach and EVERYONE is looking for him LAMO

He's very nervous around most people, and especially little's. This mostly comes from Sean and Micah absolutely being the worst influences for him when doing things, but he does have a bond with John. Like both of them are little and they stare at each other like "who are you??" and touch each other's faces

⬇️ He also has a great relationship with Karen! Like if she isn't looking after Sean, she's mostly seen with Kieran. And he loves her and thinks of her as a sort of mother figure. And since he can regress really young, he's also been seen being fully nursed by Karen (NOT IN AN NSFW WAY WEIRDOS!!!!)

If he's not out in the great outdoors, he'll be with whatever stray comes near him, dogs, cats, even wild animals. Arthur only worries for him because he could get rabies or something and he doesn't want some damn disease from an "O'Driscoll". And plus with how he is out in the mud and such, it just adds to the concern (but he's actually got a great immune system :) )

Arthur had gotten enough of his antics of leaving without a word and being found only hours later, so he got a baby leash for Kieran to keep him still. Everyone thought it was the worst idea ever, and then they all realized just how much Kieran would crawl away, so they just all ended up agreeing LAMO

Another thing, is that Kieran is always been too scared to say what he needs, like if he's hungry or he's wet. Like he'll stay STARVING for days and yet not say something because he's scared he'll be laughed at for asking for simple things (which is what happened while he was with the O'Driscoll's)

He won't say much about it, but he loves more feminine things while being little. And when he's extra, extra tiny, he'll wear a little bit of pink or maybe have a ribbon or two in his hair, but he's still shy about it. So that's why he stays mostly with Sadie, Tilly or Karen, because they understand that he just wants a little bit more to do with "girly things" and that's okay!! (I say those for those boy regressors that sometimes love girly things too!! Shout out to my boy feminine regressors!!! :D)

#agere fandom #agere headcanons #fandom agere #fandom headcanons #fictionalagerechallenge #red dead redemption agere #rdr2 agere #kieran duffy #RAHHHHHH #MY BABYYYYY #there are some great hcs i made with this baby with my friend before and theres so many more #anyway kieran is baby and baby is underrated #underrated kieran duffy

[cainluvr69]

Surely, We Can Make Miracles Chapter 25

Previous Chapter

The stone steps that Hwylryn led us to were beautiful. His magic, or maybe it was Balthazar's, shined in place of streetlamps, a constellation under the sea. I had a basket filled with sweets. He had the sight of an island destroyed many centuries in the past. I'm sure walking down the cobblestone path with Mithra on one side and Hwylryn on the other was a strange sight. Everyone else was watching us from afar. Balthazar floated in place between the three of us and the rest of my wizards. Oz and Arthur. Murr and Shylock. Owen was a little ways away from them, sitting on top of his trunk. Their clothes and hair floated in the current in the same way they would have in the breeze. Little bubbles danced around them. Hwylryn looked down at me, smiling gently.

Hwylryn: I had a lot of fun with you at twilight. Flying through the sky with Akira was fun. Playing around with Mithra was, too. It's gonna be dawn soon.

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to hold out the torta di cocco that Mithra had brought down all this way and have that somehow stop all the fighting… I really did mean to say something like that. But I had the image of my wizards, covered in injuries, circling in my head. He'd said that the Northern twins were his brother's enemies.

Mithra: I'm not forgiving you.

Mithra spoke before I could even open my mouth. He was wearing a look of disgust I'd never seen on Mithra before. His vividly green eyes were dark, the color of moss in a forgotten city.

Mithra: You put your hands on Rutile. I made a promise to protect him.

Hwylryn: You made a promise, even though you're a wizard?

Hwylryn was surprised, but I could still see a bright smile full of joy on his face.

Hwylryn: That's so wonderful. I'm glad you found someone you felt you could make a promise with.

Mithra: …

Mithra pressed his lips together, like he didn't know what to say in response to that.

Akira: Could you… Um, could you take this?

Hwylryn: More torta di cocco?

Akira: Yes…

Hwylryn: Thank you. I'm really happy. But we already made a promise to go back to the store together tomorrow… Does this mean we're not doing that?

He smiled sadly.

Akira: N… …No, we…

I couldn't get any more than that out. The kind, lonely scent of parting wafted through the air between us. Talking with one another was supposed to let us know each other better so that we could find a solution to our problems together. I wanted to tell him all about how precious each and every one of my wizards was. But the words just weren't coming. Everything I came up with floated up and away from me before disappearing, just like bubbles. Still, I couldn't just give up.

Akira: …Is there any way you can stop working with Balthazar?

Hwylryn: I let Gwawlyn die. I can't let Balthazar die too. What about you, Akira? Can you stop being the Sage?

Mithra: Excuse me?

Hwylryn: Can we play as just you and me, without this whole "Sage" thing getting in between us? I want to stay with you. Can we do that, Akira?

I lifted my head, my breathing trembling. Hwylryn's expression was earnest and genuine; he wasn't bothering to hide what he wanted, not even a little. His sincere, charming gaze told me he hadn't spoken a single untruth. I didn't…want to reject that gaze. I didn't want to hurt him. But…

Akira: …I…can't do that… Because I was only brought to this world so that I could be its Sage… …No… It's because I love everyone who calls themselves my wizards… I can't just stop being the Sage. I don't…want to stop…

I did my very best to convey everything to him, even as my voice shook. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes, disappearing into the ocean. Hwylryn closed his eyes and mumbled something, as if trying to plead with me.

Hwylryn: I see…

Mithra: …

Mithra's lips were trembling. I wonder if he wasn't able to find the right words right now, either. But Hwylryn grinned, looking like a little kid about to pull a prank.

Hwylryn: Well then, Mithra! How about we pick up where we left off?

Mithra: …I suppose we should.

Hwylryn's smile was infectious, and it had caught Mithra in its trap; Mithra was smiling like he didn't have a care in the world right now.

Mithra: I'm not going to lose.

Hwylryn nodded, and then he held out his arms to us. He embraced us, hugging us as tightly as he could. His skin was as warm as it'd been inside his mouth. He stroked my hair somewhat reluctantly, resting his cheek against the side of my head.

Hwylryn: It only took a single evening for us to become friends. But still, I love both of you. I'm happy we met, Akira.

✦✧☾✧✦

Faust: Figaro!

Figaro: Faust… Leno! And the Eastern kids, too!

Mitile: Leno…! Leno!

Lennox: …Mitile…

Shino: Told you we'd get him back, Mitile!

Heathcliff: Did you get the cintamani stone?!

Figaro: Yep. Lord Snow should be a-okay soon enough. Thank you.

Heathcliff: Thank goodness…

Shino: So now we only need to worry about Shylock.

Riquet: Thank goodness you all came home safe! Don't you think, Mitile?

Mitile: Yes…sniffle.

Lennox: Sorry, Mitile…for making you worry…

Mitile: …I'm so happy… I'm just so happy you're back, Leno!

Figaro: Yep. Thank goodness. Everyone was all worked up, you know.

Lennox: …Sorry.

Figaro: No… I'm the one who should be apologizing here. I'll tell you all the details later…

Lennox: …? Okay…

Figaro: Putting that to the side, those wounds look terrible. Mitile. Can you make some healing potions to help with treatment? Make enough for the Eastern wizards, too.

Mitile: On it! <Ortonik Sealsispilce> …Is that good?

Figaro: Yep. Well done. We've got a lot of people with injuries, so make as many as you can.

Mitile: Alright… I hope my brother is okay…

Figaro: Mithra is with him. He'll be fine.

Mitile: …You're right. Leno, close your eyes and get some rest, please.

Lennox: …Alright…thank you…

Faust: … Figaro. Look after the kids for me. I'm going to meet back up with the Sage.

Shino: Us too…

Faust: No, you're staying here. Both of you should be on the verge of completely exhausting your magic. You wouldn't be able to move after very long.

Figaro: That goes for you, too.

Faust: But…

Figaro: Riquet, could you go grab Nero and Bradley? If things are all settled in the castle, ask them to head into the ocean. I'm worried about the others.

Riquet: Understood.

Figaro: Mitile, Riquet, can the two of you go underwater, too? I imagine we have people down there who are hurt or magically exhausted and can't get back on their own. I'd go there myself, but if someone seriously injured is brought back and I'm not here, I might not be able to make it back in time to treat them.

Mitile: Okay… Hopefully Rutile and everyone will be coming back okay, but we'll go out to greet them anyways!

Figaro: Yep. I'm trusting you guys.

✦✧☾✧✦

Bradley: That damn Figaro, pushing me around like I'm his underling…

Nero: What else were we supposed to do? Oh, Riquet, right there's good. We're gonna be using your lantern as a landmark.

Riquet: Yes! <Sunrotea Edif>

Mitile: How pretty… It's as bright as the last star in the sky at dawn!

Riquet: I hope that it can serve as a proper guide for those who may need it…

Nero: It will. But it might serve to guide our enemies, too. I'll be here to back you up if any weirdos start showin' up.

Riquet: Thank you!

Mitile: So you're with me, Bradley! We're going to search for anyone who might need help from the sky!

Bradley: Damn, guess we gotta. Guess I'll help ya out.

Mitile: Rutile…I hope you're okay…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: …Gasp… I managed to get up to the surface, but I don't have the strength to fly back…

Rustica: …

Chloe: …I need to pull it together… Rustica can't swim, after all… But… It's super dark, and the waves are so tall, so I don't know which direction to go… … …My arms…are so tired… …Ah… Was that super-bright star…there before…? …No… That's Riquet's lantern…! Riquet's here! Everything's going to be okay, Rustica! If we can just get that far, you're gonna get help! I wonder if he'll hear me from over here?! Heeeey…! Heeeey…! Riiiiqueeeet…! …I guess the waves are so loud he can't hear me… …Someone help…

Mitile: <Scintilla>!

Chloe: …! Wah, I'm floating…! Rustica is, too…?!

Mitile: Chloe! Rustica!

Chloe: Mitile…!

Bradley: See, what did I tell you. I toldja you'd be able to lift two grown-ups at once, and here you go provin' me right.

Mitile: Yeah! …But…I don't know if I can carry them both all the way back to the castle…

Bradley: Leave that part to me. Lil' tailor guy, get on one of our brooms.

Chloe: Bradley!

Bradley: Good work, kid. Hang on tight. Make sure Mister Bridesgroom doesn't fall.

Chloe: Bradleyyyy! It's really bad down there! We ran into a dragon that looked like a human, and…

Bradley: Gimme all the details on the flight back to the castle.

Chloe: Okay…!

✦✧☾✧✦

Borda Island Youth: Why are you taking out a boat in the middle of the night, Miss Natalie? Where are you going? Or are you planning on some morning fishing?

Natalie: Don't be stupid. A bureaucrat is going to be digging into things around here by the time dawn breaks. I'm taking the down payments we got for vacation homes and getting out of here. If the plan had gone the way it should've, we'd have ten times this amount… What a waste… Oh well. Maybe I'll meet a wandering prince with a huge inheritance, like the one those traveling bards keep singing about.

Borda Island Youth: Hn? Miss Natalie, weren't you going to marry me?

Natalie: …?! A door just appeared on the boat?!

Borda Island Youth: There's water coming out of it?! Is this seawater?! There's so much water coming out…! The boat…! It's gonna sink…! We gotta start bailing out the water! What's up with this door?! It won't close…! Aahh! All our money…!

Natalie: The money is sinking into the ocean…!

Cain: …Uwah…!

Rutile: …Wahh…!

Natalie: The playboy from this afternoon?!

Cain: …Cough… O-Owen?!

Borda Island Youth: The boat…the boat is sinking…!

Bradley: <Adnopotensum>!

Natalie: …?! Why is my body floating…?!

Bradley: Am I collecting all'a you guys, or what?

Cain: Bradley!

Mitile: Rutile…!

Rutile: …Mi…tile…

Mitile: …Oh no, these wounds are terrible… But, I'm glad we found you…! Everything's going to be okay now! You too, Cain!

Bradley: Guess we'll cart these freaks that were with 'em back to the castle, too.

✦✧☾✧✦

Owen: … Hey. He said that I'm stronger than you are.

Balthazar: …

Owen: What's up with that dragon?

Balthazar: If I call for him, he'll come.

Owen: Oh, really. So you didn't call for him even though you had a Central wizard and Western wizard wailing on you? Can't believe a Northern wizard like you is being reduced to begging a sea snake like him to save you.

Balthazar: …

Owen: Oz, are you listening?

Oz: …

Owen: Shylock, did you hear that?

Shylock: …

Owen: That's all you amount to as a wizard, Balthazar.

Balthazar: <Mare Praeda>

Owen: <Cuare Morito>

Balthazar: …?! What…?! That trunk is absorbing my magic…?!

Owen: You got it. A wizard who's completely lost his heart has a finite supply of magic. You should be running out pretty soon. You're just not on my level.

Balthazar: …kh…!

Murr: Good one! So you attacked him so you could take his magic for yourself?

Arthur: If all of Balthazar's magic is in Owen's trunk, he won't be able to run away even if he tries!

Balthazar: Urrgh…ghh…! …You're stealing…my magic…

Owen: Just shrivel up and die already!

Oz: …Owen…!

Owen: …?! …Aaahhh…!

Shylock: The dragon is… Hwylryn is eating Owen…!

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>! Woah, he's fast! I missed!

Arthur: …!

Oz: Where are you going, Arthur?!

Arthur: I need to save Owen! Lord Oz, you can…

Balthazar: <Mare Praeda>

Arthur: …! <Pernoctant Nixzo>

Oz: …Arthur…!

Balthazar: Oz! I'll turn you and your disciple to stone together, here and now…!

Murr: …I'm gonna go help out Oz and Arthur!

Shylock: I'll assist Owen!

Mithra: You don't need to do that.

Shylock: Mithra…!

Mithra: I'm going to kill Hwylryn.

✦✧☾✧✦

Owen: …gh…! <Cure Memini>! …Dammit…it's not working… That should've blown those fangs out of his mouth… Open your mouth, you…!

Mithra: <Arthim>

Hwylryn: …!

Owen: …gh, the fangs are out…!

Hwylryn: Mithra…

Mithra: Owen.

Owen: …What?

Mithra: We're swapping off.

Owen: Excuse me?

Mithra: I'm going to kill him.

Hwylryn: …

Owen: Fine by me. I'm going to go get revenge.

Mithra: Who are you avenging?

Owen: Whoever.

Mithra: Did someone turn to stone?

Owen: As if. They had me protecting them.

Mithra: …

Owen: I protected them. Got a problem with that?

Mithra: …No… Take care of the Sage after you kill the other one.

Owen: Sounds like a pain… Sure, fine. I can do that.

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: …I hope everyone's okay…

Shylock: Master Sage, this way!

Shylock was protecting me as we traversed the undersea city. Murr and Arthur were fighting Balthazar right in front of us.

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>!

Arthur: <Pernoctant Nixzo>!

Balthazar: <Mare Praeda>

Arthur was protecting Oz's back, desperately blocking Balthazar's magical attacks. Balthazar was infuriated.

Balthazar: Use your magic, Oz! Are you mocking me…?!

Murr: Freaking duh, Balthazar! Oz is the greatest wizard in the world! Do you have any idea how far beneath him you are?!

Balthazar: How dare you…! <Mare Praeda>

Murr's provocations stoked the flames of Balthazar's fury, and he began a series of attacks, one after the other. There was a terrifying amount of force behind them, but that didn't matter very much if they didn't hit--and they didn't.

Shylock: …I was intending to bring you back to Lord Oz's side, but that seems like it could be a bit dangerous at the moment. …! <Inviebelle>

That same moment, a bitterly cold twister of ice aimed its jaws at us from overhead. Its terrible current threatened to freeze everything around it, but before it could reach us, Shylock exhaled, the smoke from his pipe wrapping around us. That smoke turned into pale pink bubbles as it spread out, protecting us.

Shylock: Everything is okay, Master Sage.

Akira: Okay…

Something massive cast a shadow above our heads. It was Hwylryn and Mithra. The twister of ice had probably been Mithra's magic. There were patches of ice all over Hwylryn's huge tail. But with a sweep of his tail, the ice was gone.

Balthazar: <Mare Praeda>

Murr had been elegantly dodging Balthazar's attacks when Hwylryn's huge body suddenly rushed past him. Without any way to escape, Balthazar's next attack was set to hit home.

Murr: …!

Arthur: Watch out…! <Pernoctant Nixzo>!

Oz: Arthur…!

Arthur threw up a barrier around Murr. But Arthur's barrier wasn't enough to stop the attacks of a Northern wizard like Balthazar. The barrier cracked, a black gash running through it.

Arthur: …!

The crack widened, but right as I thought it was going to swallow them up… A ferocious dog's howling reverberated through the water.

Owen: <Cure Memini>

A dog with three heads crashed through the darkness as it howled, charging towards Balthazar.

Balthazar: …!

The glass bubble floated out of the way--Balthazar avoided Cerberus's charge. Still, Cerberus was faster, and it whirled on Balthazar and chased him.

Owen: Go. You're my dog, right? Tear him apart!

✦✧☾✧✦

Cerberus leapt forward and caught the bubble of glass.

Balthazar: …!

✦✧☾✧✦

Hwylryn: Balthazar…!

Mithra: Where are you looking? Your opponent is me, if you forgot.

Hwylryn: …!

Mithra: <Arthim>

✦✧☾✧✦

Balthazar was glaring daggers at Owen from his vantage point under Cerberus's front paws. But that glare warped into a grin, and he began to laugh.

Balthazar: …Haha…

Owen: …

Balthazar: Haha… I understand…

Owen: Yeah? Tell me what you understand.

Balthazar: I should've just done this from the start, instead of hesitating…

Shylock: … Stop that, Balthazar.

Shylock's expression as he looked at Balthazar was a tense one. I wondered what they were talking about. I was about to ask when I realized something and gasped. I remembered what Murr had said. Balthazar had both the inclination towards and means for sinking an island.

Murr: You're going to sink Borda Island?!

Owen: What?!

Balthazar: Wicked gods slumbering beneath the sea, hear me… Spirits of darkness, primeval souls of creation… I offer…my body and soul to you…

Shylock: Balthazar…!

Balthazar: …Give me the power to rend land and sea apart…! <Mare Praeda>

Balthazar screamed his spell. The next second, his head disappeared inside of the glass bubble.

Shylock: …Balthazar…

A tremor ran through the undersea city. A dreadful red light was born from the bottom of the ocean, filling the area.

Murr: We're getting back up to the surface now!

Arthur: Master Sage! This way!

Akira: What about Mithra?!

Owen: He'll be fine! Hurry!

With Arthur's guidance, I finally took my place at Oz's side again. We held our hands out to one another, our fingers linking.

Oz: <Vox Nox>

And with that, we were in the air again.

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: …! The wind…

It had been so long since I felt air on my skin that for a moment, my body didn't know how to react to it. Owen had been pulled up with us by Oz's spell, and he was mad about it.

Owen: Excuse me? Why did you drag me along with you? I can fly by myself, you know.

Oz: …

Owen: Don't just ignore me. Say something.

Arthur: Master Sage! Look…!

Arthur was looking down, pointing at the ocean we'd just been in. There was…light, or something like light, carving itself a path from the undersea city towards Borda Island.

Murr: That was a forbidden summoning spell!

Shylock: He fed his own body and soul to the spirits…to sink Adams Island, as he did now.

But back then, Hwylryn had saved Balthazar. Left with nothing but his head, he slept for a very, very long time--that was the only way he could've continued to stay alive. But right now, Hwylryn was… Fighting Mithra, tears rolling down his cheeks and scattering in the pre-dawn sky.

Next Chapter

#.mhyktl #.eventtl #.main story tl #4th anni

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

10 fandoms, 10 characters

@lonnson thank you for the tag! One character per fandom requirement is so cruel:( But here we go!

Matthew Crawley (Downton Abbey)

Have never felt so emotionally attached to a character, either before or after him.

Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings)

I don`t even know what comment to add here. Except maybe that every dictionary entry for "ride-or-die" should include a pic of him.

Will Graham (NBC Hannibal)

Certified murder babygirl - and certified mindfucker (good thing Hannibal is into this). Seriously, spectacular character. Most of the time I don`t get him (neither does Hugh Dancy, as per his own words, and that`s comforting). Actually that`s precisely Will`s shtick: no one understands him completely, no one ever could - including himself.

King Alfred the Great (The Last Kingdom)

One of the best-written and best-acted characters I`ve ever seen on screen. A great example of gentleness and ruthlessness, greatness and flawedness combined in one person to create a character so real and believable it feels he might just step into our world at any given moment.

Death (Terry Pratchett`s Discworld)

I just want to have a nice long chat with him.

The Joker (The Dark Knight)

Nothing groundbreaking to say here: perfect character, perfect acting. Wholeheartedly agree with Gary Oldman, it feels like Heath was channelling something not exactly from our world.

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo (Star Wars)

Two things to say here: I love him and Fuck TRoS.

Eames (Inception)

Ohh, such a treat of a character! That was my introducton to Tom Hardy, and it couldn`t have been a better one. Also, yes, I have a bit of a competence kink, just like Arthur.

Aemond Targaryen (Fire and Blood/House of the Dragon)

A case of a character becoming iconic from his first seconds on screen. Ewan`s Aemond has that something that makes it literally impossible to tear one`s eyes from him.

Nina Zenik (Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone)

My Heartrender Queen💕 While writing-wise I absolutely prefer book!Nina, Danielle is perfect. Her Nina feels so vibrant and alive that it`s hard to grasp she doesn`t really exist.

No pressure tags: @livvrusso @guillermosfamiliar @mejcinta @jazzythursday @heytherefluffy

#tagging game

[sapphickittykatherine]

i just wanna talk for a sec about arthur. disclaimer: i adore him. he's my blorbo boy. however, he definitely does get prince privilege with regards to both the narrative voice of the show and the fandom. i'd like to point to this post as a jumping-off point:

if you're anything like me, you might need cw: lancelot slander

ofc my bias towards lancelot has affected my view of this in absolutely no way whatsoever lmao

i understand that arthur was raised by a power-hungry tyrant - although, one who was said to care for his kingdom even before his own son... - and that being brought up with privilege goes to someone's head. this is why i excuse his dickishness in early seasons. he's going to grow! that's what merlin is there for! by season 5, however, when he has not only not grown but actually gotten worse, you have to question why everyone - including merlin - still praises him so much. he still oppresses magic. he still upholds the inequality of the monarchy. (another disclaimer: i adore fictional stories about monarchs and royalty etc. nothing wrong with liking them!) yet still, people praise him for the absolute barest of minimums. this man will be like, "yeah i don't think we should leave our citizens to die actually :)" and everyone will act like this is some incredibly brave moral stance. "we shouldn't tax our citizens to the point that they starve, or execute innocent people without a fair trial. probably." and the crowd goes wild!

basically every character who isn't a stuck-up noble with their head in the stratosphere thinks this. yet arthur is the one who gets praised for it. why? because he has the power to actually do something about it? the guy actually fights alongside his knights rather than hiding in his castle, which makes him better than the other knights. bc logic. "he's such a great guy!" he's bordering on a mediocre guy with bare-minimum moral stances. and that's okay! he's allowed to be a stuck-up royal prat! he's a medieval prince with a tyrant father, for goodness' sake! but this worship of him - not just by characters, but also members of the fandom - is weird tbh.

how the aforementioned post ties in to all this exactly: lancelot. there is a reason, dear pinterest user, that lancelot is the bravest and most noble of them all, rather than arthur. arthur fights to defend his kingdom, first and foremost. he is the crown prince, and later the kin. if not for the seemingly infinite supply of knights and citizens of camelot, thanks to this being a show, he would have no kingdom to rule if he let everyone die and all structures be destroyed! he wants peace among the kingdoms - great. again, a highly bare-minimum stance, though. you remember when uther signed a peace treaty with a bunch of other kingdoms, even though another king was mad he couldn't get rich off war if that happened? uther the pure-hearted. on the other hand, people like lancelot are just commoners. he wants to risk his life not because he's defending the kingdom over which he presides, but because he doesn't want a bunch of people who, honestly, have very little to do with him, suffer or die like he saw happen to the people in his village. "arthur risks his life for his friends!" the guy has, like, three. i should hope so. not to mention lancelot does the same 💀 for arthur (1x05), for gwen (2x04), for merlin (4x02).

lancelot is literally just one example. if you don't want to, it's chill - it's literally just a work of fiction lol - but maybe try to assess arthur sans privilege. even once. do i think that arthur is better than uther and other tyrants? obviously! do i think that's a particularly high bar? ...

he's a dick with a heart of... bronze. maybe. good for him.

#eeee i hope no one takes this the wrong way. i love my guy. i do. and it's only a work of fiction. i just. #arthur pendragon #arthur critical #bbcm fandom critical #bbcm takes #bbc merlin #mine #i've had this sitting in my drafts for ages and i'm finally just gonna post it

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Red: a Deviser fanfiction

Son likes painting.

Son likes red.

It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for.

He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

Spoilers for the entire Deviser podcast. It's only seven episodes, so yes, the whole thing.

AO3 || Tumblr

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Devil: a Deviser fanfiction

Dad knew he'd failed with humans.

Dad did not know he'd succeeded somewhere else.

Spoilers for the entire Deviser podcast. It's only seven episodes, so yes, the whole thing.

AO3 || Tumblr

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Malevolent Fanfiction: Surrogate

The King in Yellow has a plan.

The first part works, and Arthur Lester is broken.

The second half blows up in his face. John has gone mad, and Hastur’s adopted daughter is upset, but that’s not all.

It turns out a certain Outer God wasn’t done watching that show, and when he arrives with director’s notes, not even the King in Yellow can refuse him.

AO3 || Tumblr

----

This fic is fluffy AND dark?

I took the Emotions Box and dumped the whole thing in without a hint of self-restraint.

CONTENT WARNING: It includes one of John and Arthur’s absolute lowest points, and though not explicit, Arthur suffers from suicidal ideation. He does not act on it, but it’s there.

Proceed with caution.

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Malevolent Fanfiction: Five Times John Wanted to See a Movie, and One Time Kayne Made it Suck - a Malevolent Podcast Oneshot

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

Spoilers up to Malevolent ep. 30.

AO3 || Tumblr

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The Magnus Archives x Malevolent Podcast Fanfiction

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know.

He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough.

Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god.

Playlist available here

AO3 | Tumblr

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The Magnus Archives Fanfiction

Gerry still doesn’t feel things the way he should. There’s a numbness there, silently stifling; it got really bad when Herbert and Montauk still had his book. When he still was a book.

But like his ability to touch, it’s been slowly getting better, too. Maybe it’s because of Jon, maybe not; this is all unknown territory.

One thing Gerry feels quite keenly now, as he floats inside: Elias is a monster, but damn, the man has taste.

Tragedy one-shot? Check.

Extinction Martin? Check.

Gerry/Jon if you squint? Check.

Bittersweet ending? Check. 

Major character death. Y'all are warned. 

Playlist available here.

AO3 | Tumblr

The voice gets under his skin. Is it pleasing or terrifying? Inside his head or out? Is it even real, or is his still-human brain just cobbling monster-sounds into something he can comprehend?

It’s impossible to get out of his head, whether literal or not.

Doesn’t matter, though, because the answer Michael gives is a terrible one, and ends the same way: Gertrude could protect herself, Jon can’t, and he’s going to die for her sins.

Michael lives. Each chapter diverges more from the canon. We're talking butterfly-effect chaos here, folks.

Tim lives, too. Kayaks be damned.

Warning for PTSD, because our boy Jon has been through it.

Warning for Elias, who is a bastard, and should be made to wear a neon-yellow safety jacket at all times.

Playlist available here.

AO3 | Tumblr

#tma fic #the magnus archives #tma #magpod #magnus pod #magnuspod #magnus archives #magnus archives fanfic #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 feed #tma michael #tma gerry #michael the distortion #gerry keay #jonathan sims #arthur lester #arthur malevolent #john doe malevolent #john malevolent #kayne malevolent #the king in yellow #kiy malevolent #deviser #deviser podcast

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Waiting Room is Merthur Coded

If you were a teacher, I would fail your class Take it over and over 'til you noticed me

In this hypothetical situation Arthur is a teacher which implies power over Merlin which in a way he often did. It also speaks to the way Merlin would fail at his own goals (making magic free) in order to keep Arthur

If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor I would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed

Merlin is ridiculously self sacrificing when it comes to Arthur. He would die over over again just to ensure Arthur’s safety. But having the First Aid kit symbolizes that even with that self sacrificing nature he doesn’t want to die. He still tries to survive even if he doesn’t put as much priority as he does Arthur.

I wanna be the power ballad that lifts you up and holds you down

Merlin wants to affect Arthur as much as Arthur affects him. He wants to be able to lift Arthur up to the heights he wants to achieve but he also wants to hold Arthur back from the stupid or brave decision that would get him killed.

I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery

Their lives were a broken love song. They didn’t get a happy ending. Arthur instead ended up with Gwen and then he died.

And I can wish all that I want, but it won't bring us together Plus, I know whatever happens to me, I know it's for the better

Merlin could wish for them to be together but Gwen was Arthur’s destiny. Then Arthur died and all Merlin wanted was for him to come back. But Merlin all along has just been destinies play thing, whatever happens to him is “for the better”

And when broken bodies are washed ashore Who am I to ask for more, more, more?

This could be interpreted as Merlin wondering why he gets to live when all of his friends have just become broken bodies. It could also been seen as him being self deprecating with commentary on how he’s lost everyone he’s cared about but what has he done to deserve to ask for anything else.

But you're breathing in my open mouth

Brings to mind imagery of CPR, which is a life giving procedure where someone uses the air in their lungs to put air in yours. They’ve both risked their life in order to save the other on multiple occasions.

You're the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out

In contrast to the last line comments on how in a way they destroy each other but only through the others choice. One may be the weapon but the other is the one who wields them, they can only hurt each other if they let them. Arthur may have hurt Merlin by continuing to be against magic but that was only through Merlin’s suggestion, if Merlin had ever showed Arthur it was good he would have believed him.

I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over"

They both wish for the other to care about them as much as they do them. The sad thing is they do, it’s just that the other doesn’t see it. Merlin does magic and fights for Arthur in the shadows because he’s afraid of what would happen if people knew about his magic. Arthur cares for Merlin too, he’ll go on dangerous quests for him and he’ll speak out against his father for him but as time went on this clear love for Merlin seemed to fade but he still valued his opinion above all else. But Merlin failed to see how much love these actions showed

Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter She'll be the best you ever had if you let her

Once again he wants that returned feeling. A lot of people do think that Merlin was a teenager at the start of the series. Merlin and Arthur would have been great together if they had just been able to establish their relationship. They both longed for something they thought they couldn’t have

I know it's for the better Know it's for the better Know it's for the better…

As the stanza of know it’s for the better repeats over and over again it seems as though it gets more desperate. Merlin is trying to convince himself that it was for the better. I also find it interesting how without the I it can end up sounding like “no, it’s for the better” like the person is having an argument. Which connects to the first point because he could be having an argument with himself.

Know it’s for the better. I never grew up with you…

Arthur and Merlin never got to grow old together. Though they did get to grow up together a bit as ten years is a long time, but in those ten years a lot of bad things happened. So Merlin tries to convince himself that maybe it’s for the better that they didn’t get to grow old together.

… and your not my waiting room.

Arthur is not Merlin’s waiting room because Merlin doesn’t get to abide in Arthur instead Merlin is left constantly waiting for Arthur.

#merthur #merlin angst #merthur angst #phoebe bridgers #merthur bbc #bbc merlin #king arthur #bbc merthur #song analysis #merlin x arthur #merlin bbc #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #arthur x merlin #prince arthur #bbc arthur #arthur bbc #lyric analysis #lyrical analysis #SoundCloud