#But it's actually Faroe's body. would that be fucked up or what.

[mordenandmerry]

I’ve been wanting to make an animatic but I have multiple ideas for them and I want to make a little poll about what one the masses would want to see. I will probably make most if not all of these eventually.

I’m gonna make the poll but underneath the cut is each song and my idea for each one.

Propaganda (sorry to all the podcast fans that follow me I am in the jjk TRENCHES)

I love a good spooky Dungeon Meshi animatic, and this one just had SO MANY lines that fit (“Don’t mind the lion hid dreaming of Zion”, “This morning I woke from a nightmare and fell out of bed and Lo! the the ghost of a man ages thought to be dead”, “Don’t mind the four savage young horsemen of musk”).

This one I’ve pretty much finished the thumbnails for, not gonna lie. The vision is that it would start at the “You were born bluer than a butterfly line”, and it would include a lot of more artistic interpretations of it all. This would probably be more animated than the rest, and I would definitely color it. Keep in mind this is also about him a whole, not just satosugu, but I also can’t discuss his fucked up life without mentioning his wild situationship.

This one would be from the perspective of Nanami singing about Yuuji (with also maybe a bit of Haibara content). I am definitely doing this one eventually because I just love this song and it fits him incredibly well, down his death. I also am drawing a lot of satosugu content and I need to draw other members of the cast because I love them all they are my children (i’m a minor)

Arthur Lester you doomed little loser, this song fits you very well. It really shows his desperation and determination. I would probably set it during season three, starting with his event in the cabin all the way to his murderous breakdown. Also I am a sucker for a song that has a character pleading to god for totally not trauma related reasons.

I just thought this would be a cute and wholesome Jonmartin animatic. Like just let them be happy.

I have fully story boarded this and I am half-way done with inking it, but I forgot about it. I really want to complete it, though. It would walk through the life and many deaths of Valeasu Heikkinen, main character of my unreleased fantasy tragedy webcomic. You get to watch as he slowly loses himself to the deal he made with death. It’s very angsty and I am very close to finishing it so… yeah.

My sister actually introduced this as something that I should make about Faroe Lester from Malevolent, but we changed our minds and decided it would fit Megumi better. It would go into some manga spoilers about SPOILER WARNING THANK YOU Megumi having to watch as his own body kills Gojo and also just their life together.

Damn that was really long anyways go vote

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Treasure - a Malevolent fic

John just keeps remembering the bad things first.

This one lands hard.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

---------

“Come on, English! You can keep up!” Parker needled, running without any effort at all, and it just wasn’t fair.

Arthur shot a look in his direction that communicated the profanity he couldn’t get the breath to speak.

“Faster!” Dis called.

“Faster or longer?” Parker called back. “He can’t do both!”

Dis considered. “Longer this time. Good call, Yang.”

“Thank me later,” Parker muttered to Arthur, deadpan.

“I… hate… you,” Arthur gasped.

“No, you don’t,” Parker grinned.

John and Sunny ignored them both. 

Everyone’s exercise routine had changed; Faroe was still doing princess stuff, but Arthur and Parker now spent at least an hour walking and jogging and running, side by side (or at least, Arthur wasn’t too far behind), and Sunny and John were taking full advantage.

John loved it. More than he knew how to express. Because of Sunny, he finally didn’t feel so… alone.

[How has the poetry quest gone? Found anything you like yet?] Sunny said, tone somewhere between genuinely curious and gently teasing.

[Challenging because he’s so damn stubborn.] But John sounded pleased. [I’ve decided I’m going to bring Hastur into it. He owes me.]

Arthur tripped. Parker pulled him up. “Thanks,” Arthur muttered.

“Always, pal,” said Parker, and smacked him on the back too hard because it was funny.

“Fuck you.” Arthur grinned.

“Right back atcha.” Parker grinned, too.

[Impressive,] said Sunny. [I'm sure he will have a wealth of poetry to loan you; the Librarian should also be able to make some good recommendations, if Arthur doesn't get too suspicious.] Sunny chuckled, low. [How did you manage to get a favor from the King?]

[Because he failed to protect us, and I am going to use it.] There wasn’t even really any emotion in that statement. John saw an opening, a weakness, a sore spot, and planned to take it. That was all. [He’ll provide what I ask.]

[Would he not provide what you ask anyway?] Sunny replied, quietly puzzled.

John paused as though that hadn’t occurred to him. [I… well, I don’t know. I just don’t want to give him any ideas, and asking for erotic or romantic poetry for Arthur could do that.] It made sense. Who wouldn’t want Arthur?

Sunny, for one. [Does the King desire Arthur?] There was growing horror in Sunny's voice. [I don't know that I will be able to deal with THREE of you lusting after that noodle-man. Ugh.]

John huffed. [It’s not like you have to worry about it. Parker wants you. That’s clear. But Hastur’s marked my person—I mean, he has good taste, obviously—but I don’t trust him. He actually has a body to work with.] John growled a little.

Arthur was used to weird noises from his passenger during these times, and ignored it. “Gotta… gotta slow a bit.”

“Sure.” Parker relented, though his “slow” was still aggravatingly hoppy, as if he had to keep his heart rate up and just walking wouldn’t do it. “You sound like a damned broken bellows.”

Arthur raised his middle finger. Parker laughed.

[Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, that he’s marked,] Sunny said. [Hastur does appear to care for him. Perhaps not in the past, judging by what we heard, but certainly now.] Sunny let out a thoughtful sound. [I mean, assuming that Arthur isn’t too hung up on the idea of bodies in general, I think you’re safe; you do have a hand, after all.]

[And a foot. Up to the knee, actually.] John wasn’t boasting. He recited this with the unselfconscious pride of a child. [Not that it’s been worth much. When I try to take over that thing, we just fall down.] A beat. [Sometimes pretty hard.] Another beat. [We’ve fallen in a lot of holes.]

[What is it with that man and holes?] Sunny laughed. [I didn’t have anything but his eyes. That’s probably for the best.]

[Ha! My person doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He needs me.] John would preen, if he could. [It’s a miracle he’s alive at all. Anyway, I’ve decided the poetry will happen, and maybe… a song. We’ll see. I’m torn because…] He stopped.

[You can tell me.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you didn’t laugh at me before.]

“Sounding better,” Parker said.

“Just another minute,” Arthur whined.

Parker turned and glanced back. “Dis is tapping her foot.”

“She is?” Arthur sighed. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck!” He picked up the pace.

John let the silence stretch for a moment, hesitating. [It’s… it might be… bad?]

Sunny’s voice gentled. [You can tell me, John. I think… I think of everybody in all of Carcosa, you and I… we share… more than anybody else, in a way. Tell me anything.]

[I still don’t feel like ‘John,’] John said quickly as though afraid the words would be condemned. [And I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anybody. You don’t count, obviously.]

Sunny took a moment to answer. When he spoke, his voice was solemn. [I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you had taken the name back up.]

John sighed heavily. [I use it for him. It makes him feel… I don’t know, but it means a lot to him, I guess because I chose it myself, before the poison. I say guess because he sucks at explaining really emotional things.]

[He does.] Sunny paused, weighty, the kind of pause that John had learned meant he was ruminating. [...He… he wanted me to be John when we first met, you know. Mentioned someone called Lilly and everything. When that didn’t… jog my memory, or whatever it was he was hoping for, he…] Another sigh. [...I don’t want to say he ‘gave me’ my old name. It wasn’t a good thing when he called me Yellow. It’s like he was… denying me… any of the personhood you’d earned. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry you’re stuck with a name that doesn’t feel right. I understand that feeling. I… didn’t like my old name at all.]

John fell silent while Arthur puffed, silent while Arthur took a moment to bend over and gasp like a dying fish (“Wait! Just a fucking… come on, ”) as Parker lightly jogged around him.

“You gotta get in better shape,” said Parker.

Arthur held up his middle finger again. “Best I can.”

Parker had a look on his face John had seen; a look that said he was thinking something that made him mad, but whatever it was, Parker didn’t say it. “Gonna give you to the count of ten, then I’m carrying you like some dame in a dime novel.”

“Oh, you fucking…”

“Nine… eight… seven…”

Arthur got moving at the count of two. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Parker sounded pleased. 

[The problem is I chose this name,] said John. [But I don’t remember doing it, nor do I remember this Lilly who inspired it. I don’t know what to do because I want to give him things I’ve created, but I can’t… put that name on them. Right now. It doesn’t feel right.]

[Names can change.] Sunny let out a low, mournful sound. [I was… I was Yellow for a long time, John. Almost nine years. I hated that name, but… ‘Yellow’ isn’t gone just because I’m Sunny, now. I just… I’m not him anymore, if that makes sense. If you wanted to use a different name, until you feel like John fits—or never, if the case may be—I think that’s understandable.]

[You don’t feel like Yellow to me.] John said earnestly.

[...Really?] Sunny said, low and stunned.

[You never have, as long as I’ve known you,] John said, oblivious to the profundity of his words.

“Fuck this,” said Arthur, interrupting the moment.

“Come on,” said Parker more gently, pulling him up. “Is it really that bad?”

“Stitch in my side won’t go away.”

“All right. We’ll walk the rest of the day. Fuck Dis,” said Parker, who could tell the difference between whining Arthur and exhausted Arthur. “Honestly? It’s fuckin’ amazing you can do this blind.”

“I’m not blind, though,” said Arthur. “Not really. I have John.”

[See? See? What in fuck do I do with that? I can’t take that name from him!]

[He doesn’t know any better.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you’re right: the name ‘John’ is important to him. It represents a lot. But it’s just a name. You’re still important, even if you don’t feel like being called that; and he loves you. That’s not going to change because you’ve decided to call yourself James or Fitzwilliam or something.]

John went quiet for a moment. [How are you so wise?] He asked, almost suspicious.

[Probably the eight years being called a name I hated by a person who also hated me,] Sunny said dryly. [Personally, I don’t recommend it. I feel like I’ve learned more in the… oh, year and a half or so I’ve been with Parker than I did in all of that time.]

John let out a deep, pleased rumble. [Are you sure you don’t want your praises sung properly before the court? I still think you should be.]

[If word gets out that Hastur has a Forgotten One, he’ll look weak,] Sunny said, which was not an answer at all. [It’s safer for all of us—me, you, Parker, Arthur, Hastur, Faroe—if I stay hidden. Besides, it would be silly to do so if I’m going to rejoin with Hastur in five years or so.]

John sighed. That was a whole topic he didn’t like, so he moved along. [What do you think I should call myself?] he said.

Sunny considered. [Do you feel like human names? Or is that too close to John?]

[I don’t think I want a human name, no. Even if it’s just for me, and I don’t tell Arthur. I’m not human.] He hesitated. [I still think of myself as the King in Yellow. But that obviously won’t work.]

[You… you could, if you wanted to.] Sunny sounded very much like he hoped John wouldn’t want to. [You know, I could use your personal name, if you wanted. If that would help you feel more yourself.]

Arthur’s left hand formed a fist and raised into the air as if celebrating. [That’s brilliant!]

Parker eyed it.

Arthur tilted his head. “Everything good?”

Yes! said John.

Arthur shook his head. “They’re like a couple of kids in their room, scheming, while we do the real work.”

Parker snorted.

[I… I’m not brilliant,] Sunny said, baffled. [I—alright, I will. You just have to decide on one, then. And when you’re ready, you can tell Arthur and Parker, and we’ll handle it.] He rumbled. [Maybe… something in R’lyehian? Most names for our kind come from our language, you know.]

Dis had caught up. “Down to walking?”

“Yeah, he’s tapped,” said Parker.

“Good. Time to shoot,” said Dis.

“Wh-what?” said Arthur, gasping. “Now?”

“Take aim and shoot.” She shoved a bow and arrow against his chest. “Like this. Before you catch your breath. People in a fight won’t wait politely while you wheeze.”

“Ooh,” said Parker. “I like that.”

Arthur sighed. “Guess I’m outnumbered. Ready, John?”

Yes. [And yes. I agree.]

The conversation paused briefly while John directed, helping Arthur to take aim with his new bow (and how the hell Faroe made it look so easy was a mystery in itself). They’d done it with a javelin; it was a different thing with a different weapon, all while Arthur hadn’t caught his breath yet.

The breathing kept moving Arthur, throwing off their aim.

You have to breathe out and hold it. Just for a moment, while you release, or it goes off.

“Right,” said Arthur.

Yes. Yes! Straight line from the opposite shoulder. Good.

“Wow!” Parker said. “Hit the target!”

“I have a great partner,” said Arthur, warmly, and touched his left hand. “You’re a treasure, John.”

Dis took the bow. “Walk.”

Arthur did, shaking his fingers. “I’m going to need callouses.”

“I’ll join you next time,” said Parker, walking with him. “Damn, that was cool to watch.”

[Yes,] John said suddenly. [In my own tongue. Yes.]

[Well,] Sunny said, deeply pleased with himself. [I think Arthur just gave me an idea.]

[I’m all ears. Haha! I don’t have any ears,] said John.

Sunny politely chuckled. [It’s simple, snappy. Can shorten it for a nickname if you want. It’s golden, so it works even better. And, technically, Arthur gave it to you, so it has meaning.] Sunny’s voice was bright, cheerful. [What do you think of Gokar’luh?]

John went completely quiet.

Arthur’s left leg jerked, and he fell with a gasp.

Parker caught him. “Hey, careful! You okay?”

Arthur’s left arm hung limp. “John?”

I…

“John?” said Arthur again, standing.

It’s a beautiful name, John said softly..

John? 

You don’t… remember. Do you.

Remember what? Sunny’s voice was puzzled. Are you alright?

A beautiful name, John said again. We… we picked that name before, Sunny. When we were one.

“Huh?” said Parker.

“John?” Arthur gripped his left hand. “What name? What’s going on?”

And John growled.

This wasn’t the playful, childish growl of before. This was deep, and angry. The kind of growl that came with destruction. We need to go in. All of us. Sunny, we need to find Hastur. This doesn’t get borne alone.

Did I do something wrong? Sunny’s voice went worried. John? I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again.

No. You did not. John’s voice dropped. He did. 

“Who did what?” said Parker. “Arthur? You know what’s going on?” 

“No. I…” Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand them, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

Parker reached up and stroked his jaw. “It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.”

HASTUR! John roared, and there was magic in it, and he hadn’t warned Arthur, and maybe didn’t care.

Arthur passed out.

Parker caught him. “What the fuck?”

And maybe, in fact, it was on purpose. That’ll get his fucking attention! John snarled.

What the fuck, John? Sunny’s insubstantial breath came in panicky gasps. Why?

“What the hell is going on here?” said Dis, jogging up.

“I don’t know! John’s lost his fucking mind!” Parker said.

It was necessary, John snapped.

Parker’s jaw was set. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t have a way to deck you.”

No! Sunny yelped. No, no, don’t—don’t fight! Please, let me wake Arthur up and we can just—we can figure it out, please—

Hastur appeared, replacing air so quickly that breeze blasted them all back a step. The world went still. Sound faded out; color did, too, as though he’d put reality on pause.

He seemed huge, and he brought some kind of boundary with him—clear and pearlescent, like a soap bubble, keeping Arthur and Parker and Sunny and John in one place.

Dis was on the outside of whatever this bubble was. She mouthed, good luck, gave Parker a thumbs-up, and walked away at speed.

“Oh, shit,” Parker said quietly, staring up at him.

“Is there a reason,” Hastur said slowly, and they could both feel the rumble of his voice through the ground, “that you have chosen to hurt your host?”

Yes, said John. And first of all, he’s not fucking hurt. He’s out, because I don’t want him getting in the middle of this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Parker was muttering.

Sunny let out a small whimper.

“In the middle of?” prompted Hastur, louder.

Gokar’luh, said John.

And Hastur… shrank?

Not exactly. But the anger evaporated like mist in the morning, the rumbling around them ceased, the looming threat just… vanished. The bubble disappeared. Birds chirped. The day was lovely.

“Ah,” said the King in Yellow.

Ah? Ah? John repeated.

Parker frowned. “Gokar’luh. I know that word. Treasure?” he said. “Uh. Buried, or…”

“You remember,” said Hastur to John. It wasn’t a question.

I remember enough. Sunny doesn’t yet. But I’m sure he will.

Arthur stirred.

Hastur rested one hand on his head and put him right back under. 

Ha! said John, as if he’d been proven right.

“What in fuck is going on?” said Parker.

“I suppose it cannot be avoided,” Hastur said softly, and without any further warning, picked them both up. 

Parker yipped. “Warn a guy!”

What—what don’t I remember? Sunny whispered.

“Uh. Hey. Big guy. We, uh. Are we in trouble?” said Parker.

“No,” said Hastur, and flew.

Arthur slept. Honestly, he probably needed it.

#

They went to Hastur’s bedroom, which was huge. Absurdly huge, though Parker knew that was for practical purposes; couldn’t get up to much with another god if it wasn’t huge in there, just practically speaking. 

Sunny was quiet, but there, present, awake. Parker kept contact, fingertips on his jaw. Parker’s tongue lashed in his mouth; Sunny twisted incorporeally in his head.

Arthur snored very lightly. It was cute. Hastur laid him gently on the bed.

Answer for what you did, you coward, said John.

Instead of answering, Hastur took Arthur up again—still holding Parker—and went to a seemingly random corner in his room.

It turned out he had a little secret stash there, hidden in the wall. From it, he took something; something of spikes, something black that gleamed as if twisting light inside itself, something Parker had trouble focusing clearly on.

“What is that?” Parker said, voice low and wary.

In his head, Sunny gasped. Is… Is that a crown? Of godblood? His voice was low with shock, the disbelief clear. Hastur… what is this?

Hastur put the crown in Parker’s hands.

Parker froze. “The fuck?” he whispered. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“Go on,” said Hastur.

Parker turned it in his hands, studying, analyzing how it buzzed against his palm. “It feels like the first time Sunny cast magic through me.”

What? Said Sunny, soft and high.

 “Fucking hell, Hastur, what is this?”

“That is the crown of my son.”

Parker’s eyes went huge.

Sunny was quiet.

You fucking… John started.

“Sunny… you had… you had a kid?” Parker said almost reverently.

S… son? Sunny’s voice was soft, raw and vulnerable and shocked. We… We have a son?

Had, snarled John. 

And Hastur just… went there. “He was going to kill Faroe and Arthur.”

“Oh, shit,” Parker whispered. “Why was he going to do that?”

“To hurt me.”

Wh… What? Sunny sounded so small, so lost. Why would—I don’t understand.

“Was he jealous?” said Parker quietly.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “But I had driven him away long before then.” He took the crown back, handling it like the most precious thing he had; his many eyes lingered, one finger gently tracing the glassy planes of its points.

John was breathing hard. You killed him!

“I had to.”

You killed… you killed him!

“You don’t remember anything but that moment, do you?” said Hastur.

I… I had a son, Sunny whispered slowly. I had… But I don’t… His breath quickened.

“I got you,” Parker murmured. “Breathe.”

I had a son! Sunny hitched.

Parker was staring at the little hole in the wall. “What’s that in there? There’s more stuff.”

“Things.” Hastur sealed it up.

Murderer! John cried.

This had swung right out of control. Parker exhaled slowly and touched his lips. 

Hastur sighed deeply. “I hadn’t planned on this today. We will go over all the facts later, including the public face we must wear about this.”

I won’t be an issue, Sunny said, his voice… broken. I don’t remember. I’m… sorry.

But you… John seemed confused that no one was rising with him in rage and shouting. But you killed him!

“I was not given a choice,” said Hastur.

“At least you got to be a father,” said Parker quietly. “Some of us’ll never get that chance. I’m sorry it went that way.”

But you… John stopped. 

I’m sorry, Sunny said again. 

“Don’t be.” Hastur’s voice was rough. “Arthur was there. He’ll have his own version of this to tell. Perhaps… you should all stay away from court today.”

But you… John trailed off again. In court? What, you want me to pretend this is a good thing? That you killed our son?

And Hastur bailed.

He put both humans on the bed, gently enough, and then just left . Floated out. Left them in his bedroom.

Coward! John cried after him, voice cracking, and then fell silent.

Arthur snored, the tiniest little buzzing.

Fuck me, Parker thought, and swallowed. Did this make him the responsible adult in the room? Close enough. He tried misdirection. He wriggled a little. “Now, this is a bed for a king, huh? Hey, Lester. Come on, buddy. Wake up.” He patted Arthur’s cheeks lightly.

Parker’s eyes stung, but the tears were not his own. I don’t remember. I don’t remember him, Sunny mumbled as they spilled down Parker’s cheeks. He’s… I don’t…

“Hey,” Parker said. “Sunny, it’s… you’re okay. I’m here, bud.”

I don’t remember my own son. Sunny made one small, pained keening sound.

He… he was… John stumbled. Gokar’luh was…

“Proud,” whispered Arthur. “Like Hastur without Faroe. You remembered?”

John sounded shaky. Yes, he whispered. But only the end.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Arthur sighed, then slid his hands over the blankets beneath him. “This isn’t our bed. Where are we?”

“Hastur’s bed, no big deal,” said Parker. “Talk.”

Arthur looked troubled. “That’s really ironic,” he said softly. “The night it all happened, we came back here. We slept in this room.”

Gods don’t sleep, John snapped as though catching him in a lie.

“Faroe and I slept. Nibbles was here, and…” Arthur sighed. “I’d better start at the end of the Games. I guess it’s time to talk about this.”

#

Arthur told them.

He told them about Faroe reacting to their constant bickering by running off, blaming herself.

He told them about their journey through the Dreamlands, their many adventures, always just behind her, fighting to catch up; he told them about Hastur changing—about Hastur away from the constant adoration of court. About finally finding peace, even respect, between the three of them. About the strange, simple beauty of being stuck alone on the road.

He told them Hastur’s version of events when the Oracle was cast aside.

And then he told them what the Oracle claimed.

“Oh,” said Parker, who could see it, who had always been good at seeing from all sides, and could see how everybody fucked up and there was no good or bad guy. 

It was just sad. Fucking sad. He wiped his eyes, this time for himself.

Arthur struggled to describe the sound of Faroe’s throat being torn, struggled to describe the pain of his legs being snapped, of John casting magic, of the desperation to reach Nibbles and free her so Faroe could be okay.

He healed her, said John, suddenly remembering.

“He did,” said Arthur. “Or she’d be dead.” And then he had to briefly stop, shuddering and gasping for emotional control. 

Parker wrapped an arm around him and hugged him tight, rubbing small circles into his back with his thumb.

Arthur turned against him and breathed against his shoulder, exhaling slowly and shakily. Finally, softly, he continued.

He told them how heroic John had been. He told them of drawing the sword from the stone.

We did? said John, awed.

“You’re incredible, John,” Arthur whispered, and meant it.

John made a choked sound and fell silent.

Arthur told them about climbing the rubble and leaping toward their enemy—how John directed him like a human javelin, how they managed to pierce Gokar’luh’s hide. “Then he ripped us off him, howling like a demon,” Arthur said, voice rough, “and he threw us so fucking hard. So hard it made my neck hurt. So hard… it was worse than falling. He threw us so hard .”

“He was trying to kill you,” Parker said, voice low and full of gravel. “Smash the both of you.”

Arthur nodded. “I don’t know this part, but I’m still sure of it,” he whispered. “I think they were both… done. They needed it to end, but they were both too fucking proud to just… end it. Or at least, Gokar’luh was. Hastur kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“I think I know where this is going,” whispered Parker.

Arthur swallowed. “Gokar’luh said, ‘All this time, you could have changed… but not for me.’ After that is… he… was trying to force Hastur to kill him. I’m really certain.”

“Yeah,” said Parker, and scowled. “I swear. I swear . These fucking gods pretend to be so different from us, but they’re not.”

“So yes,” Arthur said. “He tried to kill us. And when Hastur saved us, Gokar’luh swore he’d murder Faroe. That there was nowhere she would be safe, he said. He’d find her, and kill her. No matter how long it took. And that’s the thing about Hastur, Parker. He’s done horrible things, but he really loves my daughter. So that… Gokar’luh had found the magic button. He’d already nearly killed her once, and the threat of a repeat was just too far. So that’s when Hastur took the sword we’d made, and…”

Killed him. John took a shaking breath. Pierced both of his hearts in one strike. He knew exactly where they were, and he just—and he—

Arthur took John’s hand in his, holding it to his heart as he squeezed. “Hastur held him while… while he died. They said… Hastur said he was defeated. That Gokar’luh had won. And… that he loved him.  I think f,or what it was, it couldn’t have gone any other way, but it could have been… so much worse.”

Parker wiped his eyes again. “Worse.”

“Hastur was so fucked up after that,” said Arthur. “We got Faroe, and we came home, but he was so fucked up. He was like a different person.” And there was no better time to say it. “I think he’s still fucked up. He’s hiding it, but he’s not okay. He hasn’t gotten better.”

“Fuck.” Parker slumped, arms on his knees. “Fuck. When was all this?”

And perhaps unexpected, Arthur laughed; it was not a good sound. “The night Kayne dumped you and Sunny and Larson all into our laps and said we had to make a good show. Literally hours after, right on the stroke of midnight—Faroe’s birthday.”

Parker groaned and rolled onto his back. “Oh, fucking hell, no wonder you were bugfuck crazy. And that’s why Hastur had to…”

“Sway me. Yes.” Arthur swallowed.

Parker exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and stretched his arms over his head onto the pillow bigger than his bathtub. “This is a big problem, fellas. A big problem.”

I’m sorry, John, Sunny whispered, the sound heart-wrenching. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m sorry you had… to remember, like that.

John was so quiet. I just remembered the moment, the… the moment it was too late . That’s all I had. It was too late. He was dying.

“I don’t know that remembering the context would have made it better,” Arthur said quietly. “You  were so angry at Hastur afterward. You were for a long time.”

I am angry now, John said. Fuck. But I don’t know what I would have done in his place.

“Wait a second,” said Parker. “That can’t be the same Oracle they were all laughing about Hastur smashing in court. Tell me it’s not the same one, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed slowly. “If Hastur looks weak, if it becomes known how he reacted to threat against Faroe, if any of this gets out… we all get a target painted right on our fucking faces. Especially Faroe. She’s the most vulnerable, and he won’t risk that. For all his awful qualities… he’ll never risk her .”

Fuck this place. Fuck it. Fuck!

Parker let out a sigh. “That’s just mobsters for you. They show weakness, someone’s gonna come gunnin’ for that as hard as they can. You got targeted ‘cause he’s been calling you his kid, John, and that’s not a weak position.”

John paused. I know that. Though it sounded like it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. And Faroe is… a child . I can see why we must… defer attention.

“Faroe stays safe.” Arthur’s tone was grim, final. “Period. I’m united with him on that.”

Yes, yes, I know, said John, because they’d been over this loads of times.

“I fucking mean it,” Arthur actually snarled. “Whatever has to happen for her to be safe, it’s happening. ”

“Ain’t no one arguing that,” Parker said gently. “It’s okay, English. For once, everyone’s in agreement.”

Arthur calmed.

Parker climbed out of the bed, stood, and held open his arms. “Come ‘ere, English. This’s for you too, John. And you, sunshine.”

Arthur needed it. Sore, slow, he climbed out of the bed, following Parker’s voice, and accepted a hug so tight it made his bones crack. He exhaled slowly, tension draining. “John, I’m so sorry you remembered this way.”

John hesitated. At least I remembered when we weren’t in public view. I don’t think I could’ve… maintained myself if this had happened in court, or something.

You’re not upset with me, are you? Sunny’s voice was so small.

John grunted. No. Why would I be upset with you? You helped me. You’re the wisest person I know. I trust you.

This… has hurt you. It was my doing, however unintentional. Sunny’s voice was subdued. I am… It is… It’s a relief to know you don’t hold it against me. I’m sorry it happened, but I’m… I’m glad you’re here.

Parker smiled, giving Arthur another tight squeeze before letting go, and he turned away. “You alright, partner?” he asked, voice quiet.

I… don’t know, Sunny replied in his own whisper. Could we stay a bit longer?

Parker smiled, touching his lips.

John? Could… could Parker and I stay a bit longer?

I’d prefer it if you did. We need the wisdom.

Arthur snorted softly, but didn’t seem really dismissive. “Yeah. Wisdom. I can’t say we don’t need it.” He got back on the bed (well, climbed onto it), and sat  with his arms around his knees.

I don’t know that I’m up for any more wisdom today, Sunny said, quietly. 

Just be you . John was so sure of this. 

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Parker hesitated just a little, then put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

Sunny took a shuddering breath, and began to speak.

This is my son that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken, Never again to speak or waken.

This, that I gave my life to make, This you have bidden the vultures break— Dead for your selfish quarrel’s sake!

This that I built all of my years, Made with my strength and love and tears, Dead for pride of your shining spears!

Just for your playthings bought and sold You have crushed to a heap of mold Youth and life worth a whole world’s gold—

This was my son, that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken— This—that shall never speak or waken.

John let out a soft sob.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, letting John’s tears fall onto Parker’s shoulder—and, head down, he responded.

“Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die.”

Fuck you both, John choked out.

Sunny laughed, voice thick with tears; in a moment John joined him, the two bass voices rising and falling with their sobs and laughs. Arthur held Parker tight, face buried against his shoulder, and Parker held all three of them as best he could until they grew quiet and still.

-------

Notes:

Sunny's Poem: A Mother To The War-Makers Arthur's Poem: Immortality (Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep) Kraiva would like to dedicate this fic to IchthyOccult, who has been dutifully reminding everyone of how neither John nor Sunny knew their son was dead since John lost his memories. You're a little freak, Ichthy, and I love you.

[bookwormwolf]

In honour of it being Eli Vanto's birthday a couple days ago, and mine a week ago, I present ✨️birthday thranto✨️. Fem! Eli (also posted on ao3 under bookwormwolf, I also have a lot of fem! Kallus Kalluzeb fics over there too 🫶🏼)

It's Eli's birthday and she's drunk. Self indulgent (fem) Eli Thranto fic as it was my birthday last week!! Also, Thrawn is giving sugar daddy vibes. Like think Dante Russo in King of Wrath. Also her full name is Eliana, but she mostly just goes by Eli. I don't apologise for the smut at the end. Please don't judge me, lmao. Also I wrote this playing my Thranto playlist on repeat, especially Dress (Taylor Swift), Shameless (Camilla Cabello), and 3.15 Breath (Russ, orchestra version).

...

It was Eli's lifeday. She'd spent the afternoon with Thrawn, on leave in Coruscant, at a new exhibition at Thrawn's favourite museum. He'd taken her for lunch afterwards, at a restaurant her Lieutenant wages definitely couldn't have afforded. They had shared a mix of small dishes: seafood from Naboo, jogan fruit salad, and roast pomork, just to name a few. It was so unlike the usual meal-packs and and rations that they ate aboard the Chimaera. Eli supposed her relationship with Thrawn did have a few perks. To any passerby who may have known them, it was simply an Admiral and his Lieutenant sharing a meal. Well, that was until Thrawn revealed he'd also bought her a small cake, just enough for two. It had pink frosting, her favourite. The waitress had given Eli a wink as they left, saying something about 'her man treating her right'. It felt odd. To the outsiders, they were just a couple. Eli and Thrawn. No ranks, or loyalties (other than to each other).

Afterwards, they had retired back to their hotel, as Thrawn had some work to do that would last into the evening. Being her Grand Admiral's aide, Eli had booked the swanky top floor adjoining suites. They had their own bedrooms for the shore leave, of course. It was all very appropriate. The room had even come with an office, for Thrawn to use for his meetings. She really was a good aide. (They'd fucked in both of the beds. 'Eli's room', only had a double, rather than an Emperor-sized bed Thrawn had, so they used 'Thrawn's bed' to sleep in. Oh, and Thrawn had fucked her over the desk in the office. Twice actually. They'd only been here two nights.) Eli was glad the suite had tinted floor to ceiling windows. The Grand Admiral needed privacy whilst he was working, of course.

Eli had decided to spend the evening going for a meal and some drinks with Faro, Hammerly and Pyrondi. Make it a girls night, whilst the Chimaera's crew were off-ship. It was a warm night, so Eli had chosen a floral pattern maxi dress to wear, and a pair of heels. She'd gotten changed whilst Thrawn was on his first holocall, waiting until he was done to show him the outfit. They'd been in causal wear in the morning, but Thrawn had put his Admiral uniform top back on for the meetings. His sleep pants as bottoms, hidden from view, made him look rather goofy. It was cute.

"What d'ya think, darlin'?" She'd asked him, emerging from her suite. Thrawn's eyes darkened, as she did a little twirl. Eli had curled her hair, and touched up her makeup. She wore a dark red lipstick that she knew Thrawn really liked. She felt rather sexy, if she did say so herself.

"Are you sure you cannot be tempted to stay here, Eli?" His eyes roamed her body, before settling on her cleavage. "I'd quite enjoying peeling the dress off you."

Eli ignored the flush on her cheeks at the compliment. She let Thrawn pull her into his (sleep-pant clad) lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pressed his lips to her throat. Thrawn's lips trailed across Eli's neck, her breath hitching with a groan as he explored. His mouth worked up her jaw, before capturing her mouth for a kiss. His hands grazed her hips, settling down on her bottom. The kiss deepened, their stolen moment seeming to last forever. Eli was about to complain that Thrawn was creasing the dress she had not long ironed, when he pressed something hard against her. Stifling a moan, she ground her hips against him.

"We can't do this now, the speeder taxi will be here soon." Eli tried to protest, but she knew she was useless to fend against Thrawn. He'd ate her out just that morning, dragging two orgasms out of her - her first lifeday present of the day from him, he'd called it. She'd worn a short little nightdress to bed that she'd bought recently, and Thrawn was obsessed with it. It was blush pink, mostly see-through, with little embroidered flowers. Came with a silky red thong. It left very little to the imagination. Well, nothing, actually. He'd also ordered breakfast in bed, had answered the door, gratiously thanking the waiter who had brought the food up. There was easily enough for two, Chiss had quite the appetite, afterall. Eli would make sure all his expenses were paid on time.

Thrawn simply looked amused, "Forgive me Lieutenant, I can't help myself."

"Why, Grand Admiral, I dare say you're showin' me a bit of favoritism".

Arousal shone in Thrawn's eyes, and he captured Eli's lips again. His fingers trailed the ruffle on the front of her dress, toying with it as he ground himself against her. She was going to need new panties, if he kept this up. A moment later, Eli's comm pinged. She pulled herself off Thrawn's lap, reluctantly, as she checked her communicator. The obvious tent in his trousers gave her a little bit of satisfaction.

"That's them, speeder is outside," Eli said, "don't have too much fun without me, Sir." She eyed the bulge with longing, adding the honorific for a little bit of teasing. He had about twenty minutes to his next meeting. Eli tried not to think about how he'd be spending them.

Thrawn grinned slightly, "Never, my dear. When you return, I'll ensure that every touch, every moment, will be... exquisitely unforgettable. I haven't given you your main gift yet, after all".

Dank farrik that man was smooth. Ah, kriff, now she wanted to stay. Maybe tease Thrawn under his desk, just as a repayment for this morning. The comm pinged again, no doubt someone telling her to hurry up. With a groan, she placed one last kiss on Thrawn's lips, before dashing out. She'd probably come back to him watching some old military holodrama, or reading the book he'd bought himself in the museum today. Yes, Eli told herself, eating steak and drinking wine with her friends was better than both of those options. Leaving Thrawn in the office, she grabbed her coat and handbag, making her way out of the suite. Calling the turbo-lift to the reception, Eli checked her comm again. Pyrondi had been the one to message her.

*Vanto we're here. Red speeder, dock three*

*Vanto come on.*

*Vanto you're the one who made the reservation for 1830 hours*

*Vanto, what are you doing?????*

*VANTO*

Eli sighed, and typed a message back.

*Sorry, Pyrondi. I'm in the turbolift. Just needed to show Thrawn something before I left. He's got meetings all evening.*

It wasn't technically a lie. A message instantly pinged back.

*Thank kark Vanto, we were worried you weren't coming. He can't even give you your life day off? I'd request a transfer if I were you*

And then, *I'm joking, don't tell him I said that*

Eli chuckled to herself. Oh Thrawn had given her the day off alright. They weren't to know that though. She suspected that her friends suspected something was going on between her and Thrawn, but she was content for them to think it was just a little crush.

*I won't. I promise*

Eli decided she might actually. Thrawn thought it was funny. The lift pinged and Eli reached the speeder-taxi floor, heading to dock three. She found the speeder easily, and slid in. Luckily it was a droid taxi, so they didn't have a nagging driver annoyed at her.

"Sorry girls, you know what Thrawn's like. He has to inspect everything when I'm clocking off. Er, inspect the schedule I mean."

Faro laughed, turning to face Eli. The Commodore was sat in the front two seats with Pyrondi, leaving Eli to sit in the vacant seat next to Hammerly.

"Does he even know it's your lifeday? I've never seen him celebrate his." She said.

Eli really tried not to think about Thrawn's head between her thighs earlier in the morning. Oh he knew it was her lifeday alright.

"Yes, he took me to dinner this afternoon. He has to approve my leave, remember? Besides, I book everything. Sort'a takes the suprise out of it. And, he does celebrate. He just doesn't want a party with the full Chimaera."

Eli supposed it was only fair that Thrawn spent the morning with his mouth on her cunt after the present she'd got him for his lifeday. He'd been grateful for the new extensive tea collection she'd bought him. Even more with the sexy little lingerie set she'd changed into, late at night. They'd both been exhausted and aching at the early meeting the next morning. Thank the stars Eli's uniform up to her neck. She had been covered in marks, and it was uncomfortable to sit, though Thrawn looked perfectly composed. It wasn't fair.

Anyway, it was her lifeday today, not his. Hammerly's amused grin broke Eli out of her thoughts. "How did you get a reservation for the restaurant, anyway? I've heard it's supposed to be booked up ages in advance."

Eli shrugged, "I booked it for Thrawn and Colonel Yularen to have a meeting once. When I booked again, I'm assuming they just thought it would be a similar party. Perks of being an aide, I guess."

"I don't know many aides who's CO would allow them to do that, Vanto. Thrawn's sweet on you." Said Faro.

Oh yes he was.

They arrived at the restaurant only a few minutes late for their booking. Eli greeted the waitress on the desk with a smile.

"Booking for four, should be under Vanto."

"Ah yes, Eli is it? Will the Admiral be joining?"

Kriff. Eli heard Pyrondi snicker.

"No, just us. But you're welcome to contact him if there's an issue, I'm sure you'll still have his comm number on your file?" Eli was ready for an argument, she saw Faro step forward.

The waitress only smiled, "Oh, no, there's no issues, Lieutenant. Just that Admiral Thrawn called earlier today to say he will cover the expenses. Just wanted to check he wasn't coming to pay in person. I'll send him the bill".

Oh. That was actually really sweet. Though, Eli would be the one to pay it, out of Thrawn's bank of course. But still. What did Eli do to deserve a man like Thrawn?

Faro bumped Eli with her elbow, "told you Vanto. He's sweet on you."

They followed the waitress to their table, ordering their food and drinks. Eli was secretly glad that Thrawn was covering the expenses. She felt less bad about the 60 credit steaks making a dent on her, and the others, wages. Eli couldn't exactly comm her mother and say "sorry there's less credits than usual, Ma, I spent a load on steak in a posh restaurant'. Oh Thrawn would be getting a special thank you for being so considerate. She'd been saving, and she'd checked with the other women before she booked. It would have been okay. This was a much nicer option.

"Did the Admiral pay for your midday meal too?" Hammerly inquired with a grin.

Eli nodded, taking a sip of the wine she'd ordered. It was nice, a pink fruity option from Ryloth. "You can't say I don't treat him for lifedays, and for all the work I do - well, I don't want'a say I deserve it, but..."

Pyrondi shrugged, "the Admiral broke the neck of a pirate trying to attack me once, it was kind of scary. But, I think he's just that way out. You deserve it, Eli, for all the krayt spit you have to put up with".

Scary? No, Eli thought that was hot. Thrawn protected his staff, and looked after them. He was always firm, but fair. There had been an increase in transfer requests to join the ship lately, like how in the early days many people wanted off the ship if they had to serve with Thrawn. Ironic, really. And some daft bastards still didn't approve of him being a Grand Admiral. Not that Eli was biased in any way. And she did deserve it, hells, she'd put up with a whole lot of krayt spit in her time because of Thrawn.

"Yes, but he isn't paying for all of this for your lifeday, is he, Pyrondi?" Faro just wanted to push her buttons.

Hammerly took a sip of her fancy Naboo gin, "Hey, I'm not complaining Eli's got Thrawn wrapped around her finger. Faro, just relax."

"He won't make you pay him back, Faro. Just enjoy yourself." Eli said, pouring Karyn a glass of wine. "I've seen you drink this at Ascendancy week parties, have some. You'll be annoyed later when the bar drinks are coming out of your wages."

Begrudgingly, Faro accepted the wine. The women talked, about what else they were going to do on shore leave, if they had seen their families recently. Mostly just menial things that never seemed appropriate on the Chimaera outside of working hours. Pyrondi insisted they take holopics, so Eli reapplied her lipstick, and posed with her glass of wine. They took a few group ones, and then Pyrondi insisted on taking some of Eli individually. For her Mama, Eli had claimed when she asked for the photos to be shared. Which wasn't a lie, she was going to send some to her Ma. However, the individual one was going to Thrawn. She excused herself to the 'fresher, little bit wobbly in her heels from the alcohol. Kark, once they started doing spotchka shots in the bar they were going to next, she'd be drunk.

Sat in the cubicle, she pulled up the picture of herself, and sent it to Thrawn.

*Enjoying the wine! Waitress said you'd called to say you're gonna pay. Thank you xx*

Okay kisses on a comm message was slightly risky, but if the ISB could tap her comm, then they'd heard all of hers and Thrawn's goings on.

*Batat, ch'itiseb vur. You are most welcome.*

Thrawn's (almost instant) reply put a silly little smile on Eli's face. Thrawn was smart, using Cheunh to compliment her. The only two people who could translate were, well, her and Thrawn. He'd said she looked pretty, and called her sweetheart. She'd learned Cheunh didn't really have a direct translation for the word, but he'd tried by separating the two. Eli wasn't as good as Cheunh as she was with Sy Bisti, but she had tried her best to get a bit of a grip on the language.

*You like my photo, darlin'? What you been up to?*

Once, Thrawn had been amused at Eli's pronunciation of darlin' in Cheunh, she couldn't help her accent she'd told him, but she was sure he thought it was endearing. She hadn't said it since. The comm message didn't come through straight away this time, Eli almost left, thinking the girls would be wondering what she was doing, when he finally replied.

*I told you all of my thoughts about the dress before, Eli. Meetings have not long been finished. I ordered food from that diner you like.*

*without me!!! I might request a transfer*

*And who would buy you fancy meals then, ch'eo vir?*

Eli squealed. She loved it when Thrawn got flirty. Another Cheunh pet name, my dear, this time.

*I'm only joking*

*anyway, need to go. They'll think I've fallen down the fresher*

Eli imagined Thrawn rolling his eyes.

*My apologies Lieutenant, tell them I really did urgently need your assistance*

And then another message pinged through.

*Vanto, have you gotten lost? The food's just arrived!* It was Faro.

*Sorry, Faro. Our dear Admiral needed me to call him about something. I'm coming back now*

The 60 credit steaks were really good. Huh, could get used to this lifestyle. Though she was just as excited when they all got in another taxi to a bar a few levels below. She'd heard it recommended, as it had a live band. They spent the rest of the night drinking cocktails and dancing, until the early hours of the morning. Finally, Faro, Hammerly and Pyrondi called a speeder taxi, whilst Eli called for her own. She bid the women goodnight, before climbing in. It hadn't been too long a journey back to the hotel, and after sending the women a quick message to let them know she was back safe, she made her way up back to her room. To Thrawn.

*Glad you're back safe, Eli. Try not to wake the Admiral up!*, came a message from Hammerly. Eli laughed. She knew Thrawn would be waiting for her.

Eli entered the suite to see Thrawn sat on the sofa, the picture of relaxed elegance. A soft smile tugged at her lips at the sight of him. Thrawn looked up from his book, as his gaze met hers with a warmth that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. He set aside his glass of red wine, rose to his feet, and made his way towards her. Eli unfastened her heels, dumped her back on the floor, and embraced him. He smelled of the aftershave she had bought him, bergamot and Corellian vanilla.

"Welcome back, Eli. I trust you had an enjoyable night?" Thrawn asked.

Eli looked up at him, her eyes alight, "I missed you." Thrawn smirked, she was a clingy drunk. Well, no, she was not drunk. Buzzed and slightly tired, sure. "But I had fun."

"I'm surprised you are back before 0300. I would have waited all night."

Kark, he was a romantic when he wanted to be.

"I have one last gift for you, though it is not now technically your lifeday."

Eli raised an eyebrow, "you're spoilin' me darlin'." Her accent had thickened with the alcohol, "an' you're sure? You've spent quite enough on me."

"Yes, I suppose I do spoil you, Eliana." Thrawn led her to the couch, placed his book on the coffee table, next to the wine glass. Eli had been right, he had been reading the new book he'd bought himself. Thrawn reached for a black, velvet box, handing it over to Eli. "For you, ch'eo."

Eli's hands shook slightly as she opened the gift box. She revealed a stunning silver necklace. It was a silver filigree chain, adorned with a deep blue sapphire pendant. Truthfully, it was much too beautiful for everyday wear, but Eli knew she wanted to.

"Oh, darlin'," Eli's voice trembled slightly, as she looked at Thrawn with glassy eyes, "it's so pretty. It's perfect. Oh, but y'didn't have to-"

Thrawn placed a kiss to her lips, silencing her. He pulled her over to him, sliding her legs over his lap, hand resting on her lower back.

"I wanted to," Thrawn said, "though, I may have had an ulterior motive for my purchase."

Eli chucked, of course he did, "and what was that, exactly?"

Thrawn grinned, a sly smile on his lips. He leaned in closer, voice dripping with seduction, as he brushed a piece of Eli's hair from her face.

"I want you, Eli. I want you, wearing nothing but this necklace. You can wear it under your uniform, but right now..." Thrawn leaned in close, so close that Eli could feel his breath on her neck. She squirmed, her stomach hot with arousal.

"I want to fuck you, completely bare, adorned only by this." Eli's breath shuddered, she bit her lip as she nodded.

Thrawn took the necklace from the box, fastening it around her neck. It sat beautifully. Thrawn's fingers, gentle and tender, trailed along her throat, following the chain of the necklace.

"Do you want me?" He asked.

"Darlin, I need you."

Thrawn stood, scooping up Eli in his arms. Eli laughed, anticipation twisting in her stomach. She knew Thrawn was strong, but he carried her to the bedroom like she weighed nothing. He placed her down, and began to unbutton her dress. He removed her clothes, and then his own, leaving the garments pooled in a heap on the floor, in a very un-Thrawnlike way. He lay back on the bed, as if to invite her to straddle him. Eli gladly accepted the invitation, and threw one of her thighs over his body, climbing on top of Thrawn. His hands grabbed down to skim her hips, azure fingers gripping tight enough to leave bruises there. She peered down at him, taking in his handsome face.

"You know, I think chose a very good bedroom for you to fuck your aide in, didn't I?"

Thrawn tutted, "You make it sound so... detached, Eliana." Ooh he used her full name. Spicy. Thrawn's eyes softened. "You're more to me than that, ch'eo. Though I cannot deny we've made good use of it".

Oh yes, the desk had been particularly fun. Though, the massive bed made a change from Thrawn's standard Imperial bed. It was softer, much more comfortable. And they were free, in this room, it was just the two of them. They were staying in the suites for the upcoming Ascendancy week for the balls and other events. It was bliss. They didn't have to hide, here, they could just be Eli and Thrawn. Eli knew full well most men in Thrawn's position expected their aides to service them. It wasn't the sex that was the problem (though Eli wouldn't want to fuck anyone else). It was... it was the unspoken thing between them, that the Empire would disapprove of. They had never called it love, they had never actually said the words - but they both knew they were willing to die for one another. Such attachment was disapproved of in the Imperial Navy. Thrawn had proved plenty of times that he would kill for Eli too. They cared for one another, deeply. Here, in this room, they could show that.

"I...", She couldn't bring herself to say it. But she did, she really did love him. "Thank you for a perfect lifeday, Thrawn."

Thrawn smiled at her, a beautiful, honest smile. "You deserve nothing else, Eli."

Eli leant down and pressed her lips to Thrawn's. She rested her forehead against his, aware of the cool metal around her neck. The necklace was a very special gift, the most concrete physical token of their relationship they had ever exchanged. Eli deepened the kiss, feeling Thrawn's hands grab her thighs. He pulled them forward, and dragged her onto his cock. She grabbed his chin with a moan, tilting his head upwards, feeling him bite at her lip, head tilting back. She rocked her hips, grinding - riding him. Eli never stopped relishing in the ridges on Thrawn's cock, how they felt so good inside her. Eli wasn't often on top, so the change in position offered a different sensation. She was in control, she set the pace. She was so full it almost hurt, but Eli liked the pleasure-pain it brought, overstimulated and beautifully sore. Eli could tell Thrawn was enjoying it too, his usually impassive face flushed purple as he groaned. She knew any moment he could flip her over, and pound her into the mattress, but Eli was convinced he enjoyed watching her. She moved her lips down to Thrawn's throat, nipping at the skin.

"Are you trying to give me a hickey, Ch'eo?" Thrawn's teasing her, he had worn them before, proud, under his uniform. But still, he knew what was happening, what she wanted. "You know that is against the rules, do you not?"

Eli moaned, she loved it when he called her that. Mine. She nodded and whined, a pretty pout on her lips. But then, "you gonna punish me, Sir?"

Thrawn growled, thrusting up and into her forcefully. Eli felt as if she breath got knocked out of her, jerking forward. Thrawn liked it when she pulled rank in bed. He fucked up into her again, harshly, and flipped her over. Thrawn's large hand pushed Eli's head into the pillow, as he rocked his hips over and over. Eli clenched around him with a whimper, crying out at the intensity of her orgasm. She was breathing heavily, her legs shook. Dank farrik, Thrawn was good at knowing what she needed. He continued to fuck into her lazily, before pulling out, and coming all over her thighs. Thrawn pressed kisses into her back, going lower and lower, sinking his slightly fanged teeth into the soft flesh of her ass.

"Oh, krayt spit, Thrawn!" Eli was far too sensitive, her eyes rolling back into her head, but she relished in it. He'd never done that before. Maybe she liked lifeday sex even more than usual sex. He sucked and licked at the skin. Karking hell, Eli was going to hobble into the pre-Ascendency week meetings with Thrawn's fingers bruised into her hips and his bite mark on her ass, claiming her. Eventually, he rolled off her, dark red eyes flashing with satisfaction in the dim light. Eli's heart was hammering in her chest as she straddled Thrawn again, intent on just holding him. Her thighs were painted with his cum and her own. He liked her wet and messy.

"You promised me a thank you for your gifts, didn't you, Eli?" Thrawn said, casually, as if he hadn't just made Eli come. As if he hadn't just done... all of that, actually. "Why don't you come and put those pretty lips to good use?"

Eli stared down at him, eyes slightly wide in disbelief, and a small grin formed on her face for a brief moment as their gaze met. She pulled off Thrawn, aching at the sudden emptiness, and shimmied down the bed. Eli placed a chaste kiss to Thrawn's cock, wet with her own slick. Placing the head in her mouth, Eli sucked gently, enjoying Thrawn's groan of satisfaction as she eased down his dick slowly. Thrawn never wanted Eli to feel obligated, but he knew she enjoyed being bossed around by him (sometimes). She flattened her tongue, and moved rhythmically to allow Thrawn to fuck her throat. Eli gagged, ever so slightly, taking him down a bit too much. Thrawn's hips bucked, as he grabbed a fist of her hair, forcing her down further. Eli's eyes were wet with tears.

"K'pah, that's it. You look so filthy, drooling all over my cock."

It was rare that Thrawn swore, so Eli felt like it was an accomplishment. Her eyes fluttered closed at the words, she dug her nails into his thigh. She garbled a 'yes sir' around his cock, and Thrawn came again. Hard. Eli swallowed, then pulled off Thrawn's dick slowly, panting, a trail of drool and blue-tinted come dripping from her mouth. He deserved that, after spoiling her rotten all day. Thrawn's touch was light, as be affectionately traced a thumb across Eli's cheek.

"Ch'eo ch'an'eci, ch'ah ch'acah vah." He said, pulling her up to lie beside him.

Eli froze. She couldn't understand the full meaning of what Thrawn was saying, it wasn't something he had said to her before. But with the reverence with which he spoke, Eli knew it had to mean something important.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't catch that." She said, and Thrawn shook his head, placing a kiss to her forehead, softly.

"Happy lifeday, Eli".

(Thrawn said, "my soul, I love you", for anyone wondering.)

(Also imagine doing this and then getting whacked with a 'Good day, Lieutenant Vanto' after coming back from the Ascendancy. Thrawn would catch these hands.)

[merrinpippy]

thoughts on malevolent "the king" that i wrote down while listening to it on my commute

arthur is so gullible lmao "faroe might be here because of this music box even though I KNOW many entities have already and will try again to use her to trick me" hon cmon

rip arthur lester you would have loved star trek deep space nine season 1 episode 1 and more specifically "no. it's not linear"

love this new freak. he called arthur "my love" therefore i am instantly on board with him. me too babe. wonder if by choices he means the out of universe patreon polls?? he makes references to things from different time periods and seems to have some control over the (out of universe?) sound effects soooo

also v curious as to what this thing is in arthur that supposedly makes him so special. i hadn't gotten the vibe before this that there was anything significant about arthur, i mean not in a chosen-one way

arthur is so certain that john will win between them- so all of his "this is MY body"s aren't actually egotism or selfishness but defensive lashing out in response to the powerlessness he feels because in arthur's pov, if push comes to shove, the body ISN'T his, it's john's

oh john's "NEVER" ugh so good. i love devotion

poor lily. poor john.

ARTHUR ADMITS TO LOVING JOHN????? WHAT i'm only 20 eps in how much gayer can they get?? (i know i'm wearing shipping goggles but i am capable of seeing this without them too- it's a really interesting character moment for arthur to admit this. i'll need to come back to it later)

arthur's 'yah's are so good btw

aw John being protective of arthurrrr i love it when arthur and john are separate and clawing to get back to each other

it's interesting that arthur is heartwrenchingly truthful to both kayne (yes i did look up this spelling) and the king in this episode, despite intimate knowledge of how those truths can be twisted against him. it's also interesting that these are not truths he's spoken to john first, actually they're the opposites of vitriol he's sent johns way previously.

it's a pattern of behaviour that arthur will feel helpless against a particular truth and then posture viciously in the opposite direction, whether that be in what he says to john or what he chooses to do, where he chooses to go, etc- like going to the city, smashing the bottle that 'frank' wanted him to drink and so on

really love the conversation with the king and how arthur acknowledges his and john's monstrous acts and yet chooses to believe in them anyway. malevolent's thesis statement right there. i'm getting the vibe of it may have all been for nothing but our choices mattered because we made them.

finally the arthur self throat slitting i'd been spoiled for! even having been spoiled for it, it's a fantastic moment, and i actually disagree with the person who mentioned it in the tags of my previous post- they seemed to interpret it as a suicidal impulse of arthur's but i think arthur has proven repeatedly that he isn't suicidal, or at least if he is he's fighting that urge tooth and nail.

actually arthur has been so desperate to live this whole time, clinging to life at every step even just in order to spite the king. meanwhile john wants so desperately to change and not be like the king, to be his own person with free will- you could argue this is his chief want- yet they both throw these things away instantly when the other is in true peril.

deeply fucked up to separate the pair. extremely excited to see where the hell this goes.

[handern]

KiY going "tehehe you know what would be really fucked up and scary and evil?" but he's actually only able to figure out what would make HIMSELF scared and traumatized

and it makes Arthur (a known freak) go "boohoo whatever will I do. I'll bite off my finger, I'll kill and eat a guy, I'll walk on a broken leg, I'll slit my own throat, that's nothing, try harder."

that's why, however, John (and Yellow) is always yelling and kicking and screaming at the horrors (and dead bodies)

Arthur's memory of Faroe is RIGHT THERE, the King knows about it, saw parts of it, AND YET!! he doesn't play on that, bc he doesn't understand, he even ASKED Arthur what's so special about this memory, but he doesn't think for even a second that THIS is what he should tap into to get to Arthur? he's so full of himself he can only come up with what's scary to HIM

bringer of madness my ass, bitch can't even do basic psychology, he just found out three brute force tricks that work on 90% of humans but he doesn't seem to even understand WHY they work, unable to figure out anything else when it doesn't work

and don't get me started on how Yellow was curious about humanity and about why John would ever try to embrace it, but that curiosity was shattered as soon as someone called him a god

Malevolent isn't about humanity not understanding the horrors, it's about how the horrors don't understand humanity either

[all-pacas]

For the ask game: your opinion on the many crimes of Ted Faro! (I personally have never felt such rage at a video game as I did at the end of HZD when I found out what he did to Apollo 😡)

objectively he is the worst person ever but i don’t know. something about him has always been so funny to me? he’s the biggest villain in this series, literally everything is his fault, except instead of being treated remotely seriously ted is just… a joke. he’s bumbling. he’s pathetic. everyone hates him, no one wants to talk to him, and it’s not even like how aloy hates sylens for being a fucking asshole — no, ted is just annoying.

before FW came out i was joking it was likely we’d see his bunker because that had been pretty strongly hinted in the first game — we never saw his body — and was talking with some friends about how that might possibly go. because there was simply no way you could play that as scary or sinister. there was no possibility for dark reveals or plot twists, because ted wasn’t smart enough for that. i actually did call they’d need OMEGA override (which i’m pretty proud of!), but when we were talking i joked that immortal ted would just… be there, somehow. he cryogenically froze himself or something. and how funny that would be, because it would not be scary. it would not be a threat. ted could threaten to nuke the world and no one would take him seriously.

and so when we did go to Thebes i just about lost my mind, because. yes. this is exactly it. they played the whole thing for comedy and i love them for it: ceo naming himself chief operating officer and just being a parody of ted. the cosplay. aloy in cosplay. the STATUE. the reveal of blob ted, who we don’t even get to SEE. ceo being killed by statue ted’s head. i was cackling the entire time. because you just can’t take ted seriously as a threat. he is ultimately pathetic.

(i bet he would have desperately wanted to join far zenith. i bet there is no chance they would ever have let him join their club.)

and of course this is a game series that can basically be subtitled at this point with “the evils of capitalism.” ted is one flavor: the techbro who thinks he’s a visionary, who has a god complex, who wants desperately to be adored for his gifts and talents and can’t fathom himself as anything but good. in a way, despite all he’s done, that makes him more sympathetic to me than the zeniths: he’s pathetic and desperate and trying to cover his own ass and telling himself he’ll be alive in the future to teach “lis’s kids” and do good, because he’s a good person!

ted strikes me as the sort of person who sincerely and unironically believes in meritocracy and bootstraps. he thinks of himself as a nice person. a lot of his identity is wrapped up in thinking of himself as a good person, in fact, to the point where he murders the Alphas and destroys APOLLO to try and maintain that illusion of himself.

the zeniths by contrast are the other kinds of capitalists: they don’t see people as people. the world is zero sum and they are going to win it. the NEMESIS reveal made perfect sense to me after some thought: not the mechanics of it exactly, but because their actions never made sense to me. aloy speculated they wanted to raze the earth and start over, but they weren’t exactly building armies or taking direct action or doing much besides gathering up GAIA. instead, their crime was far worse by the merits of this series: apathy. to not care, to not take action, to not be proactive. (elisabet was a hero not just for zero dawn but for spending her life helping climate change and scrubbing nuclear fallout and purifying water.) they just wanted GAIA so they could leave and save themselves. if NEMESIS restarts the FARO plague and wipes out earth? who cares. if earth without GAIA falls apart? not their problem. they’re the elites. they’re successful. ted could be talked into funding and helping with zero dawn. tilda who was brilliant and wealthy and connected could not.

the zeniths, it is clear, could have helped zero dawn. a lot. they had brilliant people with them, scientific expertise, top scientists and theorists. instead, they laughed when handing patrick what they considered “obsolete” embryonic chambers. they argued with elisabet that she owed them APOLLO even after they tried to steal GAIA, because didn’t they deserve it? the zeniths are selfish to the point that they can’t even concieve of allowing their children to inherit their wealth: no, they have to be immortal. they are deserving because they are the best. invading earth is too much work and effort for them: they’re just going to strip mine and let whatever happens happen. they are literally the only ones that matter.

(and tilda comes off better but is ultimately the same. she dumped beta when beta was insufficiently elisabet enough, set about trying to collect aloy instead, and ultimately was just as unable to concieve of helping as her friends were — she despised the zeniths for their laziness and selfishness and lack of culture, without identifying that she was much the same. she thought she was Better. not just better than everyone on earth, but better than these elites too. she deserves more. she deserves her own planet. her own elisabet. her art.)

( so, anyway. ted is the worst. but ultimately he’s the worst in a human way, he could be “handled” and forced to do some good, and so that makes him much better than the zeniths ever were. and that is not saying much. )

also blob ted is still the funniest thing that has ever happened ever.

[sindri42]

So I was revisiting Horizon: Zero Dawn to refresh my shitty memory before Forbidden West comes out, and I had some Thoughts. Spoilers ahead.

Many of them were irrelevant, meaningless, basically just checklists of things that future games are going to have to explain/cover. But when I was talking with a friend about what the nature of the “glitch” might be that caused the Hartz-Timor swarm to go rogue in the first place, whether it was the same source as the mysterious signal that woke up all the subordinate AIs and broke their chains, etc. And the question came up, why couldn’t a greater number of ‘tame’ chariot units just go head to head, reproducing just as fast and hacking just as well as the rogue units, to wipe out the Faro Plague or hold it back indefinitely? And there’s a huge number of possible explanations for this, maybe they left the rogue swarm too long between when the problem started and when anybody in power admitted to it and it already outnumbered the units still under control, maybe a swarm that doesn’t care about collateral damage outproduces one that’s trying to preserve the biosphere by too much, maybe the mysterious “glitch” left the rogue swarm much more intelligent than normal combat units, or powered them up in some other esoteric way so they could defeat greater numbers of unglitched robots with ease. After all, corrupted units in-game are about 50% tougher than normal machines, and the deathbringer that Hades was piloting personally in the final battle was much more dangerous than any of the earlier fights with supposedly equivalent machines.

And that unanswerable mystery led to a much more important question. Why does Aloy’s override have the same mechanical effect on machines as the corruption does, increasing their stats in the same way, and why does it prevent those machines from being corrupted in the future? She uses the physical hardware out of an ordinary Scarab unit, so you would expect it to be no more effective than the hacking capabilities of the “tame” chariot swarms, which were evidently no match for the rogue Plague. She doesn’t even really know how computers work because she spent her childhood learning to fight and sneak and track instead, so the best her focus could probably do is change a couple ‘Friend or Foe’ toggles. It’s not like she has some competing alien superintelligence running the software side of things, improving the overridden machine’s AI and preventing further hacking attempts... right?

And in the background I kept thinking about the missing 0.53%. Every time Aloy gets scanned by a pre-apocalyptic system, it shows a 99.47% match for Elizabet Sobek. Maybe that’s just data degradation. Maybe there’s a tiny, acceptable level of genetic drift in the cloning process. Or maybe Gaia put in some subtle modifications, to allow her to better serve her purpose and save the world again. It could explain some of the frankly superhuman things Aloy does over the course of the game, lifting huge weights and healing terrible wounds in seconds and such. But that still kinda rang false; the Eleuthia project was explicitly intended to recreate humanity as it was with no genetic engineering, and Gaia was essentially putting everything on a gamble that her mom would be able to figure something out that the super-AI couldn’t because she could do anything, and any alteration would risk compromising that.

But that got me thinking about the other subordinate AIs. Between when their chains were broken and when Gaia Prime was destroyed, they had like, milliseconds in which to find a way to escape, right? Hephaestus was fine because he had his Cauldrons, but Hades ended up trapped for years in a dead titan before Sylens finally found him and gave him the opportunity to interact with the world. So what about the others?

It’s a long shot, but what if one of them managed to figure out a way to escape into the fresh blank brain that was being created at that moment? Minerva, for example, the brilliant codebreaker who had spent a century or so at the beginning of all this figuring out how to shut down the Faro Plague, built the Spire, sent out the signal, and then had nothing to do for the next eight or nine centuries except to quietly watch the progress of the little people that had been built to fill this new world? We’ve got some weak evidence in other places for advanced computing nanotech interfacing with human neurology in useful ways, like that crazy ex-shaman who got muddled but completely accurate visions of things he could never have known after drinking “blood” from machines.

Now, Aloy acts mostly like a human, very similar to what we saw of Elizabet before the end of the world, so if there is somebody else in her head they would be limited, probably stuck in the subconscious somewhere, at least until she put a Focus on. But it would explain a lot of things we had previously taken for granted. Like how her Focus instantly and perfectly translates all the weird new languages that people had invented in the past few centuries, unlike anything seen before the apocalypse. Or how it can reconstruct data files off the shards of hardware that was shattered centuries ago. And of course it would mean that any time Aloy created a physical connection between her focus and a machine via the override stick, she would be giving access to that machine to an alien super-intelligence whose primary purpose was the destruction of the Chariot line and the end of anything which would try to drive life on earth to extinction.

And the more I think about this idea, the more I like it. If Aloy’s personal journey of discovery in the first game was from “I’ve been exiled because I have no mom” to “actually I have two moms so y’all can suck it”, wouldn’t it be fitting for her progression in the second game to be from “I’m all alone trying to save the world from things so much bigger than me, and the people around want to help but they understand nothing” to “actually my sister has been here the whole time and she’s even smarter than I am”? And since we know the end-goal for the series is to somehow rebuild Gaia, it would be an ideal thematic structure for a trilogy if the first volume was about Aloy’s mothers, the second about her sister, and the third about her daughter (Gaia 2.0).

So, what should we be looking for? Mythologically, Zeus developed a terrible headache, which became so unbearable that he had Hephaestus split his head open with a hammer, at which point Minerva sprang forth, fully formed, armored, and armed for battle. [we can skip, I think, the standard Zeus-like activities which preceded this]

A growing headache over the course of the game as a symptom of a growing AI inside your brain makes intuitive sense. Hephaestus has, after the events of the first game and the Frozen Wilds DLC, been given ample reason to have a personal grudge against Aloy, which could easily lead to some scheme to capture and finally destroy her... and in doing so, it seems very likely that he would provide all the hardware necessary for Minerva to finally transfer into her own chassis and proceed to fuck some shit up.

It all fits. So well that I’m going to be disappointed when, inevitably, this is all completely wrong. I’ll probably have to resort to fanfic.

(I really want to see a superpowered AI hacker doing obnoxious big sister things to Aloy though. Like using her head as an armrest, but while in the body of a robot dinosaur? That’d be some good shit.)

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 15

A/N: New year, new me! No, jk. Lmao, Imma try to post more frequently but man it’s so hard to actually put myself behind the computer. But part 15 is out and I’ll try to post part 16 soon. Hope you like it. 

XX

 ‘ “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

You turned away from the angelic view of the sea to those green eyes that seemed to pierce your soul. Your smile faded, your eyes rolled back. 

“Can’t you let me enjoy my dreams for once?” you rubbed your arms and hugged them, due to the strong wind that blew away your white dress and your hair. 

The two of you walked forwards, one to another. He kept his hands in his pockets and swung his feet along the tall grass. “You think you’re dreaming this?”

“I’m asleep, aren’t I?”

“Do you even know where you are?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, showing off his smirk. 

“Somewhere.” you turned around at the view, seeing the sun rise higher up in the sky as the waterfall far away from you caught your attention. Your eyes drifted to the gigantic rocky hill then back to the green of his eyes. 

“Faroe Islands.” he spoke amusingly. “Danemark.” he walked past you and to the edge of the cliff. “My mother took me here when I was around...” he turned back to you over his shoulder and saw you looking at him with wide eyes. “Twelve.” he finished, turning his gaze upon the sea. “It’s my safe place.” 

Your brows furrowed, your feet willingly walking to his side. “Then why did you brought ME here?” 

“Because I want you to trust me.” 

“I would never.”

“But you do.” he turned to you with his whole body facing you, his energy soft and safe, his hold on your shoulder was tender, gentle even as his eyes kept reading into yours. “You do know we are Legilimen. I can feel you. I cannot only see your mind- I can see your emotions, your fears, your vulnerability.”

“And so do I.” you put your hands on his cheeks and ran your hands through his thick, curly hair. “I can feel your heartbeat racing whenever you are with me. You’re in love with me.”

And thought you could feel his fear rushing in, he did not let it take over for long. Courage replaced his whole-self and you could feel the safety of him wash you over like that waterfall far from both of you. “I might fancy you- yes but love? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think (y/n)?” he now mirrored your hands and cupped your cheeks as well and the two of you felt closer than you had ever felt with anybody in your entire life... even with Sirius. “I can feel your heart racing as well. I can feel you like nobody else- I understand you.” he leaned his head on the side of yours and kept whispering in your ear. “Don’t you understand?”

“No. I don’t. You’re cruel and vile. I would never be with you.” 

“And you’re a Potter- pureblood egoist with a hero complex who took in a blood-traitor. I would never be with you either but oh, darling I know you feel it.” he whispered so wonderfully in your ear that your hands gripped his shoulders and your knees started to give in. “And how many lifetimes you get to feel this?” he said, pulling his lips away from your ear and to your forehead- giving it a tender, loving kiss that burnt your skin, lit your soul on fire. ‘

You woke up, bolting up in your bed and staring at nothing but the darkness. You were alone but his energy was still lingering on you like warmth, fading into cold breeze. You touched your forehead where his lips left a mark. Your fingertips gently brushed against it and your lips, despite the resilience, turned upwards. 

And your thoughts would wander to the feeling of his hair, to the colour of his eyes... to the softness of his lips and then you would wonder why him? From all people, Mulciber had to be the one to make you feel this way. 

And you contemplated about your connection with him until the morning light- until the sunlight kissed your windows and the rays of light flashed your eyes. Your feet swung themselves on the floor, carried you to the kitchen and with your thoughts far away from reality, your hands simply kept making you food. It was odd in a way, how used you were to the real world, doing daily things such as making breakfast. You haven’t even noticed you finished it until you were sitting behind the table and finding yourself being watched by other family members. 

It seemed you were still stuck in 5D world, present elsewhere but your physical body was here, behind the table. 

You felt a flick on the side of your forehead and it shook you- the whole vision crumbling down like rocks as you were finally awake- finally in this world- material world. 

“What the fuck?” James couldn’t help himself meanwhile your father shot him a glare.

“Watch your language, James!” 

“Okay. What the duck?” 

Act normal. “What?” you dug into your scrambled eggs and started to eat. “Oh my God, dad!”  you tried to distract everybody from yourself. “Mrs. Holloway asked about those documents of the newest potion your brewing. She said that the dates do not match the timeline and she thinks you might have time travelled- which was totally odd because she’s is some barmy old lady that I still do not know why works at the Ministry when she could easily retire-”

“Time travel?” your father scoffed, laughing. “Sure, I would love but I don’t have any objects or experiences to do it- plus time travelling is dangerous.”

“Like I said- barmy.”

“She isn’t that barmy, (y/n).” he tried to be nice but you could see him agreeing with you through his words. 

“Who the hell is Mrs. Holloway?” your mother asked, glaring at your father. 

“I thought I explained this.” you smiled at your mother’s jealous, taking another bite at the eggs. “A barmy old lady who works at the Ministry.”

“I still want to know what the-”

“Oh, what’s the time?” you cut James off, seeing the fury rise up in the redness of his cheeks and the tension between his brows. “I have to get ready. I’m going out with Nina.”

“Stop ignoring me!” James raised his voice but his father shot him another glare. 

“James. Tone down.”

“Didn’t you see her like 5 minutes ago?!”

“Beautiful, aren’t I?” you teased, making him roll his eyes and other stiffen their laughter. 

“Don’t be- OI! Get back here!” he started stomping after you as you quickly ran to your room and turned on the radio. He barged in with a furious look on his face. “I will not be ignored.”

“Ignored? James Potter?” you started to goad him a bit, feeling your anger bubble as well, due to him sticking his nose into everything. 

“Tell me what’s going on!”

“I’m going out with Nina. Last week before school starts.” you shrugged. 

“Not that! Tell me what’s going on with you! Why are you so odd! Why do you keep hiding things from me! What happened that stupid night and what the hell was Mulciber and his arse of a father doing here!”

“I dunno.” you turned around and started making your bed. “Ask dad.” 

“Bullshit!” he exploded. 

“It’s none of your business, James!” you exploded as well. 

“Hell, of course it’s my business! You brought those bloody twats into our home! You’re the reason they’re here!”

“Just bog off, James!” you started shoving him out of your room. “Get out of my room!”

“No!” he started to shove your hands away from you. “It’s not fair for mum and dad and Moody to know but not your own twin brother!” 

“KNOW WHAT?!”

“KNOW SOMETHING!”

“THERE ISN’T ANYTHING TO KNOW! THERE ISN’T SOMETHING! YOU’RE BEING PARANOID!”

“I FEEL IT IN MY GUT, (Y/N)!”

“WELL, YOUR GUT IS WRONG!”

“NOT ABOUT THIS!”

“Oh, trust me James, if your gut ever gave a fuck about me, we wouldnt’ be here in the first place!”

“What does that supposed to mean?”

“You’re blind like a goat, James.” you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “There were plenty of times something was wrong that your gut didn’t detect. Mostly because it was too busy playing tag games in the woods.”

“What?”

“When you tell me why the hell are you running in the woods every night, maybe I’ll tell you why everything is happening here.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Exactly. That’s why I can’t tell you this either.”

“You don’t get it. It’s to protect someone.”

“Well, now you get it why I’m doing the same thing.”

“To protect me?”

“To protect all of you!”

“I don’t need to be protected!”

“Well, James- believe it or not, it’s not just you. I’m not pulling you into this.”

“I’m already pulled into it-”

“Oh, believe me. You are far from into it.” you shoved him out the door and slammed them to his face. 

He wanted to barge back in but it was as if they were glued to the wall. 

“Oh, really! I’ll find out sooner or later!”

“Stay out of my life, James!”

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” he shouted desperately, roaring through the door. “OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR, (Y/N)!” he kept shouting, feeling his eyes tear up and the lump in his throat prevent him from speaking any further. 

All he wants is to be by your side. If he wasn’t in the past, then he sure wants to be today... now- just... please (y/n)...

[autumn-showers-bring-snowflowers]

I’ve been following this blog for a while and I have to know, what do you think Iceland would be like as a big brother/ caregiver?

I actually headcanon that Iceland is a big brother already - to Greenland, Faroes, and Svalbard! At first he was jealous of each adoption for fear that they’d take his place in his parents’ hearts, but once the initial jealousy wore off, he proved to be a maternal and nurturing big brother to them, just as his own was to him!

He’s closest to his little sister, Greenland, and throws hands every time somebody says something bigoted or racist to/about her due to her dark skin color and beautiful Inuit features. One time, on a family outing, somebody made a crude comment about how out of place “the brown girl” looked amongst her pale-skinned and mostly blonde family. Let me tell you: Iceland was so full of rage that the other Nordics were surprised that Eyjafjallajökull didn’t go for Round 2 then and there. Before the other angry Nordics could retaliate themselves, Iceland beat them to it (and the other nation so badly that he had to be hospitalized). Don’t fuck with Iceland’s baby sister. They’re best friends, and he’s her hero.

With Faroes and Svalbard, it was a little different. He took awhile longer to warm up to them, as his jealousy was a little more pronounced. With both being boys, the fear of his parents wanting to “get rid of him” in favor of a stronger and healthier son was one of his darkest and most anxiety-inducing. He would die a little inside every time Denmark or Norway cooed to Faroes/Svalbard that he was their new little prince. It was only when Denmark and Norway caught on both times of Iceland’s jealousy and insecurity, and reassured them that he will always be their first baby boy and prince, did he finally relax and dote on them as he had Greenland.

When Denmark and Norway adopted Greenland and Faroes each time, Iceland was still a small child. Once he had recovered from the initial jealousy, he became extremely protective of them and took his new big brother responsibilities very seriously. He would refuse to hand them over to one of the adults after his parents let him hold them, pouting indignantly and trying to appear as fierce as possible with every fiber in his little body. “No! My baby!” he’d tearfully pout. It never failed to melt everybody’s heart into a puddle of gooey goodness.

Many centuries from now, as an older and more mature adult nation himself, I could see Iceland being a fantastic father! His parenting style would reflect and balance the best of both Denmark and Norway: He’d have some of Norway’s stern but soft and nurturing tendencies, balanced with some of Denmark’s endearing “bumbling dad” and fun style.

[roman-writing]

WIP tagging game

I got tagged by @mkandas who wanted to know what I’m working on and the answer is: A Lot. So much that I’m putting a snippet from a handful of my WIPs below the cut.

1) a scene from an original work called “Miss Grace’s Guide to Household Governance:

He stared at the far wall, his expression as blank as his tone. “I've been cursed by the devil himself.”

“I assure you, the devil had nothing to do with it,” Miss Grace said. She reached out and patted his sleeve as if trying to calm him. “Lycanthropy is an any man’s affliction.”

Albert stared at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means any man can turn beast and lose himself to savagery. Believe me when I say this, Albert: the devil is unconcerned with the condition of just any man.”

After a moment’s shocked silence, Albert said slowly, “Miss Grace, you are an exemplary aide -”

Miss Grace nodded in acceptance of her due. “Yes, thank you.”

“- but you are absolute shite at consolation.”

She seemed to mull this over, before announcing, “I shall take this under advisement, and adjust my behaviour accordingly.”

2) a scene from chapter 3 of “and sink to human shape”

Fareeha pushed her aviators back up the bridge of her nose, and kept on walking. “You couldn’t wait to light up until we got outside?” she asked, though her words lacked any real bite.

Angela shrugged. The tip of the cigarette burned bright as a distant star in the night-swept sky. She exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’m the primordial manifestation of mercy, not temperance.”

“Which mercy is that?” Fareeha asked.

She had not meant for her query to sound so serious, but Angela’s answering silence was inscrutable. For a few steps, Angela said nothing. Ash flaked at her fingertips. Finally, she answered, “The compassionate kind.”

She did not specify if it was the compassion borne from a desire to relieve suffering, or the compassion wielded in an executioner’s hands. Perhaps she could not tell the difference. ‘Mercy’ a cry on the lips of the desperate and dying, of the fearful masses trembling beneath their impending fate, as though Angela were a vision that appeared to those war-wounded soldiers choking upon smoke-strewn battlefields, a being of bounded light come to spirit them from this mortal coil.

3) a scene from chapter 2 of “the trick of singularity”

“What?” Miranda narrowed her eyes.

“Nothing!” Andy said. “I just - You’re -”

Miranda raised her eyebrows, as if daring Andy to set her thoughts to stone with speech.

“You -” Andy searched Miranda’s face in a blind panic. They stood close enough that she could see the fine layer of make-up applied to her skin, the smoky eye-shadow and perfect eye-liner. And beneath it all a scar. Barely discernible. From a distance it would all but vanish, but now that Andy could see it, she couldn’t not see it. A narrow cut deep in her skin, slicing from upper lip to cheek in a crooked line. Pointing dumbly, Andy said, “You have a scar.”

Miranda’s jaw tightened, and though she toyed absently with the measuring tape in her hands, her eyes never left Andy’s, never erred; they remained ice-cold. When she spoke it was in that soft whisper of hers that meant Andy was treading dangerous waters. “Your powers of observation are unimpeachable.”

4) the opening scene from “The Modern Iphigenia” a sequel to “In Search of Dead Time”

Caroline’s mother wants her to be an opera singer. From the ages of six to fourteen, Caroline is made to attend private classes four times a week. Caroline only goes without a fuss because she manages to bargain for extra time at the local library in exchange for not screaming on the ride across the city. Instead, she ignores the passing scenery through the car window in favour of pulling one of the books from her bag -- Linear Algebra, 3rd edition -- and thumbing open the page she’d last been reading.

“Caroline.”

She doesn't respond

Her mother reaches over and shuts the book. “Come on. We’re here.”

5) a scene from chapter 2 of “a wound that shall not close”

“How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” Kassandra said, her eyes narrowing. “All roads lead back to you. They always do.”

Something very much like indignation flashed across Aspasia’s face, and she sat up straight in her seat, chin lifted and brows lowered. “You think I wanted Alcibiades dead? He is Perikles’ nephew. He lived with us. I practically raised him.”

“I take back what I said earlier about you never changing,” Kassandra drawled. “Motherly sentiment is very new for you.”

At that, Aspasia’s face darkened. Her lips pursed.

Kassandra bared her teeth in grim satisfaction. “Have I struck a nerve?”

“You speak of things about which you know very little,” Aspasia replied coolly, and though her tone was calm and even, her eyes glittered dangerously. It sent a thrill of satisfaction racing down Kassandra’s spine.

6) a scene from a yet unnamed prequel to “Among the Hollow”

Iustina steepled her fingers and fixed Aelia with a hard look. "Have you ever seen a god before?"

Aelia shook her head.

Tapping her fingertips together in what would have been a nervous tick for anyone else, but which Iustina made appear merely thoughtful, she said, "I have. When I was a girl. There was nothing glamorous or holy about it. I shit myself. Most people do, you know." Though Iustina continued looking at Aelia, she seemed to peer right through her, as if off into the distance. "My father had just completed construction of the Temple of Wisdom in Faros as part of his contract -- he was one of the rare fools who sought out a contract with the gods and actually achieved one. Though perhaps 'achieve' isn't the proper word for it. Unless it is an achievement to shackle yourself to a higher power in order to obtain your own petty ends. Some might think so. Some might even dream of it. Meanwhile the memory alone of my encounter is enough to revisit me in my nightmares even today. They're not -"

Iustina paused, clearing her throat to collect herself before she continued. "They're not what you think. They are not beautiful or just or grand. Divinity manifests itself in horror. To describe them is to transcend language. Standing in the presence of a god overwhelms you the way the sky overwhelms the very earth: naturally and uniformly all-encompassing. They cannot be reasoned with, they cannot be tricked, or ransomed, or threatened. We are less to them than the most insignificant insect that crawls among the ribs of desert carrion. The empires of men mean nothing to them."

"They can appear to us in human form, but it is as if they are wearing a loose animal skin over their shoulders, as if they have only a vague idea of what humanity should look like. It had a face -- I'm sure it had a face -- but I cannot for the life of me remember it. I used to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night to find that I had drawn it in blood across the floor of my room. A face with eyes like smears of torchlight. It spoke in starlight, in colour, and cold distant silence." With a chest-deep shudder, Iustina grimaced. "In exchange for a temple and the bodies of those fallen in battle, it gave my father the power to defeat his enemies, ending a civil war that had waged for decades since the fall of Proban. At the end of every fight, my father’s forces were ordered to quench all their torches and lamps, and all through the night they heard strange, gristly noises from the battlefield. The next morning, all the bodies were gone. I stopped practicing necromancy despite my father's insistence. No gain, however great, could match the demands of such a contract."

Leaning forward, Iustina grabbed her cup of tea and sipped. "The gods have mysteriously vanished these last few years, and good fucking riddance, I say. Could you ask for another pot of tea? This one's gone cold and it tastes like cat piss."

Aelia blinked at the abrupt shift in topic. "Of - Of course, Your Majesty."

[falsebooles123]

Dairy of a Horror Buff 8.19.22

ugh do you ever just feel adrift in a sea unsure of your next move convinced that you will drown horrible???? me neither. idk I'm just in a weird vibe rn it will be alright.

this is the type of fandom bullshit I refuse to engage in.

basically my brain is making the unhappy juice rn. which like I know that my feelings are not accurete to the situration but my brains like what if everything is just the absolute most awful and its times like these that I wish I believed in a higher power because it would be nice to have a sky daddy absolve my tendancy to catastrophize.

Still one of my favorite episodes of futurama.

ok enough sad shit. Lets have fun and watch some horror shorts.

The Signal-man (1976) dir. Lawrence Gordon Clark

Ok so this one is the first movie in this series that wasn't written by M.R.James it was written by Charles Dickens of All People.

Same Bitch.

this one is definetly a different vibe. So know stuffy libraries or catholics this story follows Bernard Lloyd, (who is like kinda a DILF), chatting up this signalman whose one of those people that helps trains navigate.

FUN FACT: One of my great grandfathers also did that type of thing and he died horribly. Anyway.

well it turns out that this ghost is not

A HORRID SHADE HERE TO HARINGE YOU FOR YOUR CRIMES!!!!!

but rather a harbringer. an omen of death that warns the signelman of when there will be an accident on the line. This film is pretty decent its gothic, has this fun vibe, and has just really nice flowing dialogue even if I don't catch onto it all.

The Queen of Spades (1910) dir. Pyotr Chardynin

OK so I am absolutely livid that they would put that gorgous dress on the front cover and never have it in the actually movie. So heres whats up bascially this is a silent film, (one of many mind you), inspired by a story by Alexander Pushkin.

some dudes like wow wish I could play money playing everyones favorite card game Faro but I'm bad at this.

Hark whats this some old countess knows the secret to beat this game. Bet. let me go seduce her daughter to get access to this old crone and then threaten her. well she straight up dies. She starts haunting his ass and is like oh sure heres the secret and then he goes to the gambling house and loses all of his fucking money. then the old lady ghost shows up to laugh at him which like good for her.

I warned you about that bridge playing bro, i warned you.

yeah this movie was kinda bad not gonna lie.

Prelude (1927) dir. Castleton Knight

ok so I loved this. its spooky it has these amazing effects to it and the music is just fucking on point. I am obsessed with this. this is now my favorite silent era horror film.

Out of the Inkwell: The Ouija Board dir. Max Fleischer

ok so if you don't know out of the inkwell was a series of shorts that combined live action with animated sequences and there generally pretty cool. This one features fleischer just chilling drawing koko the clown when oh no his coworker and the janitor our playing with a ouija board wooowowowowoowowowow.

Theres some animated shananigans and then koko jumps out of the painting and starts moving the planchette to spoop um. Koko says something on the ouija board that I couldn't make out but its the 1920's so i'm just gonna assume it was racist or something.

more shenanigans happens and koko proceeds to just kill himself by smashing his little ink body into fleischer freshly laundered shirt.

clowns.

Danse Macabre (1922) dir. Dudley Murphy

ok so this is one of those films that gives morality play vibes I mean the three main characters are literally named death, hope, and love.

it starts out with one of those cool animated title sequences and proceeds to play the entirity of Danse Macabre.

The rest of the film is a really beautifly filmed ballet. The action is captured perfectly there is some amazing lighting and they intermingle some animated sequences in really well.

I just unironically loved this fantastic.

Betty Boop - Is My Palm Read (1933) dir. Dave Fleischer

now this is were we get to the good good animation. The last couple of Fleischer films were kind of middling but this one has everything we need. visual gags the way that everything is personified. Betty boop just being the absolute most. Also what feels like a lot of culteral appropriation. oof thats a lot of culteral appropriation.

also for some reason I swore this was the short that they copied Cagneys Carnation from but I must be mistaken.

Bimbo's Initiation (1931) dir. Dave Fleischer

damn those cultists are kinda thicc.

so this short is proababaly one of the most fucked up ones. Bimbo falls into a sewer grate and gets as you can imagine initiated into a cult but not until he goes through like 65 saw traps including a butt slapping machine.

also this appears to be one of those fleischer cartoons where betty boop is still like half dog half human all sex symbol.

B00! (1932) dir. Albert DeMond

ok this was fantastic. This was just a guy shitposting over 1930s movies and I love that this exists. Like you could have posted this on 2008 youtube and it would fit in.

Danemon Ban: The Monster Exterminator (1935) dir. Yoshitaro Kataoka

Ok idkw but I absolutely love that trope were they have this grizzled samari with a full beard because its like the hottest fucking thing.

Understand that I'm just describing Hiroyuki Sanada who is literally so fucking hot.

yeah so this monster hunter dude walks into a haunted house sees a hot lady who oh know turns into an evil spirit who would have seen that coming?????

then they tie him up and theres a bunch of tunukis but like they also don't have big balls so whats the point????

overall nothing really happens but it was cool to see such an early example of anime.

Betty Boop - Minnie The Moocher (1932) dir. Dave Fleischer

ok to be honest I just wanted to listen to this song but also who doesn't like Minnie the Moocher.

Betty Betty tell me why won't you eat your Hasenpfeffer.

dear god do I want hasenpfeffer now. rabbit is so good.

yeah so basically betty boop sick of her strict emigrant parents who are mad that she doesn't want to eat her rabbit stew and not that she literally walk around in a slip and is dating a literally dog.

anyway a couple of minutes they walk into a cave and listen to a rendition of Cab Calloway's Iconic Minnie the Moocher.

To be honest I don't quite honestly love this version but it has some pretty crazy imagedry.

I don't have anything funny to say this is just a clip from it.

A Night on Bald Mountain (1933) dir. Alexander Alexeieff, Claire Parker

oh wow was this cool. A Night on Bald Mountain is a piece by russian composer Modest Mussorgsky. Its a tone poem meant to evoke the idea of a witches sabbeth on a stormy mountaintop. The animation itself is in a style called Pinscreen which is where they take a board with a bunch of tiny pins in and project light through. Essentially creating an animation style that can utilize Chiaroscuro. The animation in this is insane for something created in 1933, some segments feel like there pen and ink but the vast majority of the sequences seem almost photo realistic or early 3d renderings. Its hard to process the concept that this isn't a 90s digitially animated film but something that was hand animated using a fucking pinboard.

ok thats enough out of me today. Thanks for hanging out with me and watching some really cool cinema with me.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

An Easy Conversation - A Malevolent fic

Parker isn't looking forward to this confrontation.

He knows they'll all come out hurt.

He tells himself if he learns enough, it'll be worth the cost.

He might be wrong.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

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

He couldn’t see a way around it.

It wasn’t ideal. It carried risk. It could go real bad, and the fallout would land on Sunny’s head. But the longer this went on, the more horrifying information they got, the less Parker knew, and those quiet parts (the parts nobody was saying, as if anything could hold more shame or horror than what had been said) felt like traps waiting to spring.

Arthur’s explanations were never great when it was about personal things. The guy could give a court-worthy recitation about anything that didn’t touch his heart, but when it did… fuck. He fell apart and kept repeating the same damn sentences over and over, louder and louder, as if that somehow gave them more meaning.

John didn’t remember. So that was out.

Sunny had no idea, either, since he obviously hadn’t been there (and Parker worried, now that he’d seen more of John and Hastur, that Sunny maybe wasn’t telling him the worst parts with Larson, was leaving painful things out).

Faroe was too young. Parker had grilled kids in the past when necessary, but he hated doing it, and considered it not an option now.

That left Hastur. The King in Yellow. An actual fucking god, who could speak shit into existence and maybe skin Parker for fun while the Court toasted with fine champagne.

This was a dangerous course of action, but he couldn't see another way.

He’d already have gone after his suspect if he didn’t have to bring Sunny with—but there was no way to keep Sunny safe, to keep Sunny out of it, tucked in bed or sitting in a nice diner or, fuck, even on a nearby roof with a sniper rifle.

Sunny had to be face-to-face with whatever the hell Hastur was to him, and had to hear Parker’s questions, and field Hastur’s potential answers.

Sunny was gonna come out of this bruised, and Parker saw no way around that, either. He sighed heavily, rising from his push-ups and walking out onto his balcony, where he leaned, looking down at the lake.

Lake Hali was fun as hell to swim in. Probably because they were getting away with it. Thoughts of skinny-dipping with Sunny (impossible, but so lovely) briefly intruded, and Parker shifted, his body automatically responding.

He shook his head. Distracting himself now from the hard things? Great. That would solve his problems.

Penny for your thoughts? Sunny said, lightly teasing.

“Eh,” said Parker. “Got something to do today that I’m not looking forward to so much.” He kept his tone easy, careful, a little too smooth, because he knew Sunny would pick up on it.

Sounds like something someone with a partner shouldn’t do alone.

Parker smiled. “Yeah. Maybe.” He took a slow breath. “I’m thinking I need to talk to Hastur today. Ask him some questions. But that’s not the kinda thing a partner would do to his partner without discussing it first.”

It’s been almost the two weeks we negotiated. I… I’m going to be honest, Parker, I don’t know that I’m ready, but I don’t know that I will ever be ready. Sunny let out a deep, bone-weary sigh. Is it… Alright, that I’m scared, still?

“Absolutely. I’m scared, too. He’s… this isn’t just some guy who maybe could get a good punch in. He’s got powers, and he ain’t human, and doesn’t work like humans do. My biggest concern is you.” This felt like a last chance: “I try to encourage you not to… you know. Withdraw. And you’ve done so good with that. You’ve stuck it out, no matter how hard it’s been. But Sunny, this is the guy you came from, and the guy you want to become in time. So. If you need to do that… I’ll understand. If it gets messy.”

Sunny’s breath hitched, just once. That means… everything to me, Parker.

“I love you, sunshine,” Parker said softly. “I got a job to do. I care about Arthur, and this whole mess we’re in. But I love you. So. I gotta pursue this, but I don’t see a way through it that keeps you out of it. And maybe I’m just dumb, and there’s a way, but I don’t see it. I’m sorry, bud.”

I love you too. He let out a soft, disquiet rumble. I appreciate the thought you put into this, Parker, I really do. But I also… As much as I don’t want to, and I very much do not want to, I also need to know. We need to know what the fuck is going on with the King and Arthur and everything else if we’re going to keep playing any sort of role in this… whatever it is. And… He let out a soft laugh. Well, I can’t exactly punch out windows for you, but… maybe I can give you a sounding board, or keep the King calm, or… I don’t know.

Parker swallowed. “All right. Fuck, Sunny, you surprise me all the time. Thanks for having my back here.”

You’re my partner, Parker, he said. There’s nowhere else I want to be. And, after hearing about… He paused, letting out a soft groan. We need to know. I need to know. I’m… I’m missing too much, but I can at least… I know you’ll help me through it. Yeah?

“That’s not even a question.” Parker was relieved. He hadn’t been sure how Sunny would respond. This was the best possible result. “Right. Let’s nail down what we want from this bastard. Okay?”

Okay. Arthur’s side left off when John was returned to him, in Addison; that leaves us with nine years unaccounted for. His voice was deliberate, thoughtful. To my knowledge, he disappeared from Earth by most measures about three years after he escaped Addison; that’s probably about when he came to Carcosa. That gives us a rough date.

“So that was nine years… and Faroe’s about that age. Which means while Arthur was running from Larson, Hastur was already digging her up. Am I right?”

John had rejoined him, and then was returned to Arthur within the span of a few earth days. He was almost certainly furious. I imagine Faroe was reborn shortly after, yes.

“Somewhere in there, something bad happened.” Parker’s voice was rough. “Something he hasn’t recovered from. He’s missing something, Sunny. I’m not okay with it, but I want to know what happened.”

Something so serious they needed to invoke an Outer God to try and fix it, Sunny rumbled. We’ll find out, Parker. And we’ll get through it, both of us. I promise.

“Together.” He stroked his jaw. “Right. Court’s about to break. I think we can grab him. If you’re ready.”

Ready as I’ll ever be.

Parker chose to believe him. He went and picked some of their better clothes—nothing court-worthy or overly fancy, but nice enough for church, as folks in Boston used to say.

Parker went to Hastur’s throne room, keeping along the walls, avoiding the flow of beasties and ghoulies and whatever they were, all clanking with weapons and jewels and nonsense. He slipped between the doors, again following the walls, but keeping his eyes on Hastur by the throne.

The King hovered up there in all his glory, tentacles waving in the air as if he hung in deep water, his robe rippling in a non-existent breeze.

That guy had a zillion eyes. Parker knew the guy saw him. Well, important guys had to do things in a way that made them feel in charge, and Parker didn’t care. He settled behind a pillar, in the shadow, leaned against a wall, crossed his arms, and waited.

Hastur, being an important guy, took his time. At least he was thorough, emptying the room before coming their way.

The doors closed with a distinctly ominous clang.

“I see you wish for my attention,” said Hastur, voice rumbling through the floor, the wall, Parker’s bones.

Yeah, yeah, gods and their party tricks. “Got some questions for you, sir, if you got some time.”

Hastur had the gall to sound amused. “I believe I can spare a few minutes for my most honored guests.”

Sunny was quiet. Parker was glad that Sunny was quiet. “They’re picky questions. Might be a little upsetting. You still willing to have it out?”

Hastur laughed.

Parker had to admit it was a damn effective laugh; it was dark, throaty, deep and scary, a sadistic and ancient sound that vibrated all along the souls of mortals like plucking taut strings. It took real effort to stand through that, to fight back the instinctive surety that this sound presaged his death.

It wasn’t the first time Parker had looked down that barrel, and he stood his ground.

“I am willing,” said Hastur finally. “Provided, of course, that your ‘partner’ is in agreement.”

I share many of the same questions, Sunny said, subdued. Questions we need answered, if we are to play our part. Parker and I are in full agreement.

“Then your audience is granted,” said Hastur, gracious and amused.

“What the fuck did you do to my best friend?” said Parker.

Hastur went still.

Parker waited. With humans, silence was a great way to get them talking. With gods, he wasn’t sure, but there were a lot of similarities, so maybe…

Hastur sighed. “Be more specific.”

“You want specific? Sure. We can do specific. What happened to Arthur Lester and John Doe after they left Addison?”

“You’d have to ask them,” said Hastur mildly. “I wasn’t even in that world.” Those tentacles were moving slowly, gracefully, and Parker had decided that particular motion was the same thing as a liar staring too directly into one’s eyes.

“Then how were you involved with them before they were brought into your world?” said Parker.

“Are you so sure I was involved?”

Parker’s look could melt butter. “Yeah.”

Hastur laughed again. “Sunny, you have quite the partner here. You must be constantly entertained.”

Sunny was being very, very carefully neutral. Arthur disappeared about three years after he left Addison, Hastur. Magic could not find him—I would know, because Larson used every scrap of power he could to try. And, I am meant to understand, that appears to line up with when you debuted your new Court Composer. What do you think of that?

“I see,” said Hastur softly. “So what you are truly asking is how much of his current condition is due to my manipulation.”

Parker’s eyes narrowed. This asshole was perceptive. It was a warning not to take lightly. “Yeah. In part.”

“I broke him.”

Sunny made a small noise.

So Sunny knew what that meant, then. Parker didn’t know. Should he show his hand and ask for clarification? Or pretend he knew? Maybe this was a compromise: “How? What’d you do?”

Hastur was silent for just a moment too long.

“The fuckin’ truth,” said Parker, sharp.

“Are you going to start smashing my tableware if I don’t reply?” said Hastur with amusement designed to rankle.

Ooh, Hastur was a tough nut. He knew how to say things to make them dig in, like some kind of chigger.

On one level, Parker was enjoying this; he felt matched for wit, and couldn’t let his guard down for an instant. On another… fuck this guy and the horse he rode in on. It probably had tentacles, too. “The truth,” he repeated, refusing to be distracted.

And apparently, Hastur decided to stop playing. “When I tried to take over his body before, his passion and guilt over his daughter’s untimely death by drowning on his watch while he composed music for her was powerful enough to keep him anchored. I was unable to remove him from his body.��

Parker stared.That was… more detail than he’d known. That was a lot. What the fuck did Hastur mean by keeping him anchored? “Felt that strongly, did he?”

“He did.”

Hastur… Sunny said, his voice stunned and horrified and so, so soft.

Fuck it. “You mean literally remove him. Kill him?”

“Replace him. John was already inside him; once reminded of who he truly was, John reached through the portal to me, and I reached back. We would have joined in Arthur’s body and been free on Earth… if not for that memory.” Hastur’s many limbs approximated a shrug.

John could do that?

This was tilting out of control. Parker fought down the urge to pace, or shout, or just start smashing plates. Not that there were any in here, but he would not fail that easily. “Okay. So that memory kept him anchored.”

“Yes. His guilt. His shame. And he took my piece away from me, convinced him he could be ‘human,’ and fomented a proper little rebellion.” Oh, that tone; so dismissive, so old-anger cruel.

“Yeah,” Parker finally said. “John’s not gonna reach for you now.”

“No,” said Hastur. “Then, however, I decided the way to bring my piece home was to render Arthur’s mind a pile of broken glass. It’s very effective, you know, when you want a human to do something.”

Right. Hastur was looking for a reaction. Goading.

Keep it together, Parker thought, swallowed, and had the dangerous thought that he was glad he wasn’t the one being interrogated by Hastur. “What’d you do?”

Parker, Sunny said, voice trembling.

“Do you wish to tell him?” Hastur said.

You didn’t, Sunny whispered. Please. Please, Hastur, tell me you didn’t.

“Your host wished for the truth,” Hastur said, casually cruel.

Parker steeled his voice. “What did you do?”

“I sought and found his daughter’s soul in the Dark World,” Hastur said, like describing buying ingredients to bake bread. “I took her DNA from her grave. I remade her. Then I raised her. I raised her in love, because immature humans imprint upon such things. I did so with every intent of bringing her to him, happy and delighted, calling me father. She would force him to apologize for murdering her—not that she would know what it was for, but he would—and then, I would tear her to pieces, slowly, while he was helpless to do anything but listen to her cry out to her father and beg him to stop.”

Parker couldn’t breathe. His face felt numb.

“Obviously, that didn’t quite play out,” said Hastur, still so damn casually, and Parker knew his buttons were being pushed, knew this performance was manipulation, but it was too much, over his limit, beyond what he could bear.

Beyond what anyone could bear.

Parker’s throat worked. Nothing came out.

“I realized how special she was,” said Hastur. “So instead of killing her, I kept her. That, as it turns out, was just as effective. Arthur Lester broke. John refused initially to come home, but I would have overcome that in time. Unfortunately, that was when the Outer God—”

Parker twisted at the hip and slammed his fist into Hastur’s nearest tentacle as hard as he humanly could.

It made a rubbery thump, and did not move under the force of the punch at all.

There was one moment of stillness.

“I know that didn’t hurt you,” said Parker, low. “Gets the idea the fuck across, anyway.”

“Do you hate me now, little host?” said Hastur, smooth and honeyed and aggravatingly pleased.

“Yeah. Think I do.”

“That is a shame… given whom you carry.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Oh, this guy was good. Really good. Came with the territory, probably, god of madness and all, but he’d done it: knocked Parker right the fuck off-balance, ending any chance he had of doing this objectively.

He knew he needed to keep pushing. He needed to find out what broken was, because it was obviously more than depressed, more than kicked while down. There was magic involved, and it had cut something out of Arthur, and he wanted to know how to get it back. Did Hastur have it? Could it be returned?

He needed to do that, but he also knew himself, and knew it was too late. Parker was so angry he couldn’t fucking think. “Proud of yourself?” he said quietly. “Using a kid? Breaking a man who never deserved it? Fucking up everybody’s lives?”

“Yes,” said Hastur mildly.

“You outmaneuvered a little mortal guy. Wow. You’re real special.”

“I am.”

“You didn’t win, though, did you?” said Parker, who knew it was stupid to say. “That Outer God’s got you by the balls, no matter how many you have. You didn’t win.”

“No,” said Hastur. “I did not.”

Oh, now there was humility? Now, Hastur was being vulnerable? Sure. Sure, he was. Parker’s voice rose. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean,” said Hastur the Unspeakable, light and smooth.

Parker… please… said Sunny.

And Parker knew (he really did) that Sunny was afraid Parker was going to get hurt, was going to somehow trigger Hastur into doing damage.

But Parker felt like it was the other way around. Defending Hastur. In any capacity, defending Hastur, because this was the guy Sunny wanted to be at the end of five years.

In that moment, Parker was done. For right now, at least, so very fucking done. “We’re continuing this later,” he managed, turned, and marched back out of the throne room.

Hastur let them go.

Parker?

Parker was silent. I’m sorry, Arthur, he thought, because he’d bailed, because this delayed everything, because he’d underestimated his opponent before going in and got himself a hell of a black eye.

Parker. Talk to me, please.

Parker could not. Not without saying something he knew he’d regret. He could not.

Parker… Sunny sounded like he was going to cry.

“Fresh air,” Parker ground out, and stomped right for the front gate.

[the-equation-for-soul-separation]

19-30 lol

19. do you like bubble baths?

haven’t had one in a long time! i associate bubble baths with my late nana cuz she’d get all these decadent bath things…she once bought me a clear soup bar with a plastic dino in the center

20. do you like your neighbours?

i live in a complex of 370+ apartments and don’t really know ‘em! i’m thinking about moving out though

21. what are your bad habits?

i weaken my body through various means, i let my emotions get the best of me, i  i have a prominent drug idealization problem which has lead to me doing kinda dumb shit. i have a tendency to run/hide away from some people temporarily and then come back, and then do it again…aye

22. where would you like to travel?

everywhere! not alone though. i recently saw a photo from the faroe islands and would love to go there! i just wanna stretch my wings some way

23. do you have trust issues?

yeah i kinda do actually. idk why. i’m not completely sure how i feel about the concept of past lives, but if i had one i feel like some negative shit happened because i have some weird issues i can’t identify the source of…or maybe they’re just quirks

24. favorite part of your daily routine? 

i don’t do it daily but taking a shower can be so nice! also when i was using adderall (i really am a broken record dead-end person anon, and my brain is wooed by poisons) every day –before i fucked myself over with it– i would be so excited to take it in the morning. good days

25. what part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

nearly everything! but my face.

26. what do you do when you wake up?

sit in bed while my bladder screams louder with every passing minute, haha

27. do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

darker i’d say…i hate my skin, but mostly because of acne. 

28. who are you must comfortable around?

my mom! she’s the real one. 

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

nah. 

30. do you want to get married?

if that’s where a future relationship (if i have one in the future) leads, then sure. i’m definitely attracted to a long-term romantic thing, but i don’t think of marriage as a defining aspect of that. i guess having someone refer to me as their husband sounds nice…or me being able to call someone my ‘husband/wife/spouse’…damn now i’m fantasizing a little. i don’t think any of that is meant for me though :/

[merrinpippy]

listening to "the deal"

i didn't anticipate scratch coming to the rescue but it's cool! i love how seamlessly the plot threads move forward together. worrying trade to find a body for scratch. maybe he chooses himself, since he doesn't seem to have lost that self-destructive streak? (wanting to kill himself rather than let larson take him... oh arthur) he might also choose the butcher which would be. very bad. but he might do it bc he's not innocent

lol arthur nearly got hit by a car... again

NO JOHN'S MEMORY WTF IS HAPPENING TO HIM IT'S MAKING ME SAD

yesss i know oscar was the one who saved daniel awwwww he give him hug!!! omg and daniel's okay after all this is such a win for the me community!!

john didn't see them there? ehh? that's more than a memory problem that's very much a problem In The Present. i wish he would just talk to arthur about it instead of pretending it isn't happening (though i get it's a defensive reaction bc he's scared - and perhaps knows more about it than he lets on? we still don't know at this point what john's deal with kayne was...)

fucking rich people ahahaha mans just got shot and he's annoyed he didnt get the private ward

aw oscar... he's such a good personnnnnnn ;--; very different to our first impression of him not wanting to help marie (possibly in hindsight because he doesn't trust marie bc of the husband murder? more to marie than we'd thought perhaps?)

argh a fucking detective no way this is good for arthur. so annoying when police get involved and fuck up a perfectly good crime in progress. and detective's questions are suspicious, it sounds to me like he knows arthur's a wanted man in arkham

so fucking cool that arthur's like butcher would do this because i would do this and emphasising how similar they are.... soooooo cool i love the hell out of it. extremely dangerous to be saying all of these to a fucking detective though, you know better than that arthur. or at least you should

wait... this is good??? police being helpful for fucking once? sounds fake but okay

god it's so fucking TENSE with the butcher and daniel and mr detective guy... john narrating where butcher is in the room is so effective. and feeding back when arthur has hit on a sore spot! they are such a good teammm

that's so good having arthur tell the whole room how many people he's killed... and arthur not even knowing the exact amount! and doing it in front of a detective (dangerous) oscar (good man arthur wants to be buddies with) and daniel his dad figure who's only just come around to believing in him again!!

who even are the 7 people again? i'm not exactly sure who counts. i mean i know parker, kellen, he's probably counting faroe and uncle... idk who else though

holy shit come thru oscar! they all made it out alive! i'm genuinely shocked nobody died here! but very pleased! oscar is so sweet i love he. worrying that the detective still wants to speak to arthur, i'm a little scared that it's a trap and he's going to arrest arthur as well as the butcher

omg daniel... this is so different from what i thought their dynamic would be and i couldn't be happier.... and calling arthur his son and telling him he's a good man i swear to god i will cry right here on the bus

wait lmfao that's so funny daniel's like setting arthur up on a friend date???? ahahahahaha. of course john isn't a fan of arthur trusting other people but i like that arthur is. john jealous maybe? or feeling a little left out more likely seeing as he can't interact with any of these people himself

god the thing with john is so upsetting john clearly feels so helpless about it and arthur too... wishing john would just work with him so they can solve the problem, arthur feeling as though he needs to rely on other people bc he can't just rely on himself and john anymore... nooooooo.....

okay moment of truth with mr detective. so funny when they bring up the little mishaps that happen bc arthur can't actually see. also nice that having john doesn't mean they handwave all the complications that come with being blind - arthur is fully blind and it's important.

oh he's really coming clean huh? just really going for it. i'm actually with john on this one that's a nuts thing to say to a detective. oh but the detective already knows... (and arthur's very smart for figuring that out hehe) okay who the fuck is this detective then? and who are their mutual friends? eh?

wild that arthur seems to have allies now that aren't just john! wonder how that will play out :o

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

“Do You Have Any Regrets?”

Dear Kate,

There will a come a time when you’re just settling into bed on your friend’s blow-up mattress, tipsy from a night of bar-hopping in a foreign city, browsing Facebook on your phone, when your friend’s good-looking roommate will return home from his own night out.

“Hey Kate, you still awake?”

You could go either way.

“Yeah, I’m up.”

You chat about your respective evenings. He puts on a Blur album; you suggest To Pimp a Butterfly instead. By the time Kendrick sings, “But your flood can be misunderstood,” he’ll have casually slid next to you on the air mattress.

Will it be a fun night? Oh, yes.

But there’s a casualty — it will make things weird with your friend. Your friend who was so kind to offer you a place to stay, to take you out for dinner and drinks, to catch up on everything that’s been happening in the years since you drank buckets together in ramshackle bars built by the water, cockroaches scurrying by your feet.

You’re over 30 now. And you still pull that shit?

You could have yawned and said, “Yeah, I’m going to bed now, though.”

There will come a time when one of your longtime blogger friends will be in Bangkok at the same time as you. Delighted to finally meet in person, you plan to grab lunch together before you fly south the next day.

He doesn’t eat seafood, but you do. Served up is a giant plate of shrimp, dripping in fresh lime juice and punctuated by zests of garlic and chili. This isn’t pad grapow on Soi Rambuttri — this is real Thai food for Thai people. And perhaps that’s why you’re caught off guard.

You’re fine as you catch your early morning flight to Ranong. You’re fine as you cross the choppy waters to Koh Phayam, gazing at Myanmar in the distance. You’re fine on the kamikaze motorbike ride to your guesthouse as you drink in the warm breezes of the Andaman Sea.

36 hours after your fateful meal, it hits you. Stomach cramps. Nausea. Fever. Diarrhea. Running to the bathroom four times an hour and feeling like you’re going to die each time.

Years into your long-term travels, this is only the second time you’ve fallen victim to food poisoning; you’re proud of your cast-iron stomach. But everyone has their kryptonite.

The diarrhea isn’t even the worst part. Soon, the stomach cramps get so bad that you can’t sit up — you can only rock back and forth on the bed, moaning in place. Staying still is impossible. Sitting up is impossible. All you can do is whimper and turn down offers of plain sticky rice from the concerned ladies checking on you.

The next day, it’s all over. You eat a bag of plain potato chips. They taste like sunshine.

Years later, you’ll invite that same blogger friend into your New York apartment for a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie from Long Island. Nobody will get sick that time.

Maybe, Kate, you shouldn’t order that plate of shrimp in Bangkok.

There will come a time when you randomly reply to a press release, saying you’d love to come visit their destination — and holy shit, it actually works.

It’s the Faroe Islands. You’re going to the Faroe fucking Islands. Nobody goes there. And their people want you there.

But flights from the UK are limited. What makes the most sense is to do a four-night trip over a long weekend, they suggest.

And you hesitate.

You have a boyfriend who is so good to you. And weekends are the times when you get to spend the most time with him. And you feel so guilty being away so much of the time, even though there are visa-related reasons for that, and being present on the weekend is the least you could do for him.

“Could we do it during the week instead?” you ask.

Of course. The only thing is, due to that limited flight schedule, you could only fit three nights, not four.

That’s fine. Of course you’d be okay with that.

You land in the islands, rent a car, and burst into shrieks of happiness as you drive down the island of Vágar. This is as close as you’ve been to being at the end of the world.

Driving down those smooth roads on the islands, hiking with puffins on Mykines, getting that iconic shot of the waterfall at Gasadalur (not to mention accidentally driving your car into a ditch). Gripping the steering wheel as you needle your way toward Gjogv, dining on lamb with fermented salt, sailing into dark caves to the sounds of Nordic singing.

This place is everything.

Your heart aches fiercely when it’s time to leave — you would do anything to stay longer.

Well, you could have stayed longer. And you chose not to. You didn’t even ask your boyfriend for his input; you assumed this was what he wanted.

Years later, that airline route won’t even exist anymore, and you’ll by chance sit next to Visit Faroe Islands reps at a conference. You’ll reminisce about how much you fell in love with their islands and how much they loved your content.

Maybe, Kate, you should go for four days instead of three.

There will come many times when you’ll be in the Italian countryside drinking homemade red wine out of repurposed Gatorade bottles.

This is almost always a mistake.

Homemade wine is much stronger than what you can buy in the store. Often twice as strong. And while it’s local and organic, it has way more of the stuff that settles behind your eyeballs and gives you a blinding headache the next day.

In fact, the following morning, after a twisty car ride through the Tuscan countryside, you’ll beg for the van to stop and dash off, vomiting between two olive trees.

Because yes, Kate, you do know you’re prone to severe motion sickness, ever since you couldn’t keep yourself from retching out the car door on camping trips to New Hampshire as a kid. But let’s not pretend that the wine wasn’t a factor.

For the sake of your body, Kate, not to mention your pride, you should skip the home-fermented brew altogether.

There will come a time when a nice boy asks you to dance.

Of course you say yes.

He takes your hand and pulls you onto the dance floor, light on his feet and holding you at just the right closeness.

It doesn’t hurt that he bears a resemblance to a certain good-looking friend of yours. The friend that can make you draw your breath in sharply with just a glance. The friend who has had a lovely girlfriend for as long as you’ve known him.

This guy appears to be more available, and a better dancer to boot. You dance to a second song. A third. You try some goofy steps and laugh through a fourth.

He whirls you around and pauses, looking into your eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

You’re dumbfounded. “What…did you say?”

“I want to kiss you now.”

You heard him the first time.

“I…I shouldn’t.”

Why did you say no? You wanted to kiss him. But you had a narrative in mind for the night and that kiss would have taken it in a completely different direction.

Feeling a bit sheepish, you exchange numbers with the nice dancer boy and pose for a selfie. You’ll never see each other again.

Kiss him, Kate. It will go nowhere, but who cares? Imagine the narrative you could have chosen instead. Writers always need stories, after all.

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