#but arthur just feels something powerful and assumes its working for him

[followtheechoes]

do you think that's how he felt when he met merlin?

I sometimes think about what destiny must feel like to the characters in this show and while merlin understands what he's feeling by now, arthur doesn't. arthur looks at merlin and goes, there's something about you, and then he lets him go without (serious) harm. he and merlin became good friends! if he felt that way when meeting lancelot or gwaine or any of the other knights, of course he would lower his weapon. there's something about mordred that arthur is drawn to, the same way he is drawn to every other part of his destiny. merlin, gwen, the knights, his throne, his death. it's all the same force.

it's the same impulse that merlin and morgana both had on meeting mordred for the first time. it's the same thing that passed between them in the forest when mordred was a child and the same thing that's helped him feel out how to make his reign stronger. it's destiny, and arthur has no reason to distrust his destiny when it's never steered him wrong before.

obsessed with the look of understanding that passed between arthur and mordred when arthur lowered his crossbow and spared mordred's life. obsessed with the intimate bond that comes from being the other's victim and executioner. obsessed with the idea of them carrying the knowledge of it within them all along, somewhere in their subconscious. of them being pawns in the hands of fate because, perhaps, it was always going to end this way

[commsroom]

cutter was born in the 20s, and he'd become "arthur keller" by the early 70s, so obviously pryce's story at the beginning of brave new world can't be taken literally - that's not even an old man, much less "older than anyone she had ever met." it's also inarguable she was an adult already working on her... ideas for the human body when cutter sought her out; "i want you to make a doll for me" and "i found people who had some very bold ideas about how to... tune up the human body [...] i funded their work, and provided them with a willing test subject" are pretty definitely referring to the same events. so, it's fairy tale language, but the question is: why? why frame it this way?

one part of it is the "fountain of youth" in connection to immortality, strength, and health. the implication isn't literally that cutter is very old and pryce is very young; it's that she represents this power, and that he wants her to bestow it upon him: "then you and i will fix the world. i will be young and you will be whole." cutter and pryce choose to look eternally 28, while referring to and conducting themselves as if they're very old: it's not just vanity, it's part of their self-mythology. simultaneously young and old, having overcome the natural order.

that mythology of "overcoming" natural limitations is especially significant for pryce: characterizing herself as a "little girl" within her own story is both self-victimizing and self-aggrandizing. pryce does not see herself as disabled so much as temporarily inconvenienced; even the usual limitations of the human body are something she hopes to transcend. "instead of being wretched or afraid, the little girl decided to be clever." she was put at a disadvantage, but overcame it all by herself because she was smarter and better than other people. by extension, anyone who can't do what she did just isn't good enough, even as she's closing doors behind her and making it harder for others like her. and at the same time: it's an underdog story that requires her to have been an underdog. she hasn't been in a very, very long time, but the power she holds over others remains justified in her self-perception by this image of a sick little girl who was hurt by the world. there's an implication of inherent worthiness, and even a sort of expected assumed innocence in characterizing it that way. the first thing people notice about pryce is her eyes, and... sure, maybe it's the technology, but if cutter can catch bullets without any visible signs, it seems likely to me that, like her age, this is at least in part an aesthetic choice. it intimidates people. she's turned this point of hurt and vulnerability into a power play, and remains attached to it.

and that's the other part of the mythologizing that's going on: presumably, pryce was not the only person who worked on all of this. cutter funded others. but the story retroactively simplifies it, in a childish fairy tale way, and paints an image of them as exceptional, uniquely capable and so uniquely deserving, people.

i think there's something interesting to consider here about pryce in contrast to hera: that pryce is a woman who self-justifies her cruelty via a mythologized girlhood, while hera is a woman who was never a girl, who was never considered innocent or even allowed the same recognition of the ways she's been a victim. pryce resents humanity and all it represents, resents her body and its limitations, feels that being human has only caused her suffering, but still clearly believes that she has more of a claim to humanity than hera does by nature of her biology and upbringing. pryce's "bootstraps" attitude re: disability and her own self-victimization are the crucial things here, but i think that is also particularly interesting if you read hera as a trans woman.

(incidentally, this is part of why i have a particular love for hera designs where she's just a regular woman, more angular, and maybe even older looking - a natural 30-something in contrast to an unnaturally maintained 28 - than pryce. they're both women who have chosen how they want to look, and it highlights something.)

[luvliewriting]

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NS/FW ALPHABET ARTHUR MORGAN

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18+ MDNI

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F.Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Mentions of choking, breeding kink kinda, reader is afab sorry (I just know how to write for afab pleasure the best I'm sorry)

Note: Don't worry I'm working on the parents headcannon and the Arthur fic, I just wanted to do something fun

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

↳Not all that bad at it tbh! He isn't the best but he's super gentle and this is where you'll get most of your praise from him. He'll happily do whatever you need. Wanna bath? Sure you got it. Wanna just lay in his arms? His arms are open darlin'. He won't ever just assume what you need though, you have to tell him what you know because sadly he'll get anxious and wants only the best for you

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

↳Favourite of his: his hands/fingers. He loves how his hands look around your pretty little throat while he's choking you during missionary and your legs are on his shoulders. He gets a little power drunk during sex so when he knows that he has your eyes rolling back just from having his fingers curl deep into your cunt, my god does it make it hard for him to just not finish right in front of you

↳Favourite of yours: look this man loves everything about you so it's hard for him to choose but if he really had to, it's a tie between your ass and your face. It's a basic fact this guy is an ass man so he probably has his hand on it whenever he can. And when you're being a little bratty, oh he loves how red it looks because of his hands. He also loves your face though, he loves your expressions when he's praising your body. Seeing your eyes roll back when he has your clit rolled in between his lips is one of his favourite things because you look so beautiful at your mercy to him

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

↳Little less than average but a thick consistency. Big fan of cumming inside of you but, if he couldn't, he'd want to cum on your face, mainly because he likes to watch you scoop up some of it on your finger and pop it in your mouth

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

↳Really into the idea of you marking him, particularly hickey’s, marks from being tied to the bed, handprints or scratches on his back. He absolutely loves getting to mark you up all nice and pretty to show that you belong to him, especially to Micah (just lets him be cocky because he knows that Micah wants you but can't have you). But he wouldn't mind having some marks on himself, just to show how lucky he is to have you to come back to

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

↳It's Arthur fucking Morgan, of course this man has more than enough experience. Doesn't matter if he's your first, tenth, or hundrenth time even, this man will make you feel like you've never even seen another human naked with how this man will take care of you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

↳Call him old fashioned, but Arthur loves missionary and when you ride him. He prefers to see your face, and know that he’s the one who’s making you feel good. He absolutely loves your expressions plus it just makes it easier for him to choke you when you start to get close, just adding to the high when he releases and the blood comes back to your head in a sweet rush with your orgasm. And trust me, when you are riding him, his hands fly immediately to your ass

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

↳Even though Arthur's very romantic during sex, he’s still always cracking jokes and making you both laugh. It does truly depend on the mood of the situation though, if he's just gotten back from a long and stressful job and just wants to be near you than yes, he's gonna be more in the moment serious. But if its casual, maybe morning sex, than he'll crack a joke or two, maybe tickle you just to get a laugh out of you

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

↳He keeps it well trimmed down there. He doesn’t want to fully shave, but he’ll keep it nice so that it’ll be better for you. If you are shaved or not, he doesn't care, he will still devour you like you're his last meal

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

↳No matter who’s on top, he always wants to be touching you, wherever he can. If he’s on top, he'll have your legs over his shoulders as he kisses on your ankles or has his hands intertwined with yours. If you’re on top, he’ll wrap his arms around your waist, and usually sucks on your tits, or kisses them. He’ll whisper I love you’s every time you do anything, and makes sure you know how much he adores you and everything about you

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

↳He doesn't do it all that often, mainly because he's typically too stressed or busy to get a chance to. Plus, during the time he usually has to himself he has you to help him get off

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

↳Look we all know Arthur has a praise kink, not so much on himself but on you? Oh lord this man can praise until the cows come home. "Good girl" is obvious but he also likes to say stuff like "you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth" or "you taste so good, you're doing such a good job." Anything that allows Arthur to know how much your skin tingles when he's praising you is good for him, adding a plus to it if his lips are on your neck at the same time, his hand dipping slowly between your legs

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

↳Arthur is one for the risks so anywhere is pretty good for him. He definitely prefers a hotel room since than, he gets to do whatever he wants and be as loud as both of you want. But if you wanna do it while you two are on a job in the middle of nowhere with a warm campfire to your side than that also works. He also enjoys the risk of it at camp, maybe he just likes knowing how hard it is for you to remain quiet

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

↳I've said this about a hundred times by now, but everything you do turns him on. Sometimes just waking up with you curled up into him, ass pressed against his straining cock, when you wear a low cut top and bend over, you telling other people what to do (he likes the power it gives you, almost makes him want to put you back in your place), etc. Once he gets hard, he’ll drag you away from whatever you’re doing, and go to town

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

↳Degrading. Even low honour Arthur won't do it. He doesn't want you to believe that he doesn't like you or that you're a whore. He absolutely hates the idea of making you feel bad even if its supposed to be erotic. Praise is just the better option in his opinion

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

↳Giver. Arthur fucking Morgan is a giver. Don’t get me wrong, he loves seeing you with his dick in your mouth, moaning around him as you suck him off, but being between your legs is heaven for him. He could die happy eating you out. Your smell, taste, the noises you make, and the way your thighs squeeze around his head make this boy want to spend hours between your legs. It's even a bigger positive if while he's eating you out, he reaches his hands up to intertwine his hands in yours just for you to move his hands down to your tits letting him squeeze and play with them

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

↳Depends on his mood. If he has you riding him, it’s not usually him who sets the pace. He’s not really ever rough (he can be rough but he'll never go to the point that you could be hurt, but if he’s had a bad day, he’ll usually choose to be on top, and do faster, deeper thrusts. He does love soft sex though, and speed kind of makes it feel more romantic and passionate, so he usually clings to you as one of you moves slowly

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

↳He prefers proper sex, and making it last longer, but if you’re in a rush, and there’s an opening for a quickie, you better believe he’s down for it. The next time you two have time alone together, he’ll always have proper sex to make up for it

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

↳Like I said, Arthur likes some risk, but he doesn’t like anyone else to see what’s his. Public stuff is a no go unless you’re like, out in a field with no one around for miles. But also as I've said, Arthur doesn’t mind people hearing you though, so playing the “quiet game” is always something he’d be down for

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

↳He doesn’t get tired. He’s not tapping out. Can he be satisfied? Yes, of course, 2 rounds or maybe just 1 very long one is fine, but just know he can go on forever. And ever. And. Ever. It usually is gonna take you having to tap out before he even thinks about quitting. If needed, he might stop for a drink or a smoke (sometimes though, he'll still be deep inside of you when he lights a cigarette and keeps going)

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

↳There wasn't the kind of toys that we have now obviously in 1899 but there was stuff like crops and such. Not that he exactly used them, he prefers his hands you know.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

↳Arthur doesn’t tease that much. He can’t stand being teased for long, and he tries not to tease you. That being said, sometimes, Arthur inadvertently will tease you with a stretch here or a wink there. It never truly works because he also gives in to his desires so easily

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

↳Sort of quiet. But he does make these deliciously low sounds that you can feel when his chest is flush against you, making you shiver. But you can get some achingly good sounds out of him if you encourage him, let him know you like it

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

↳This may just be me but this man is a switch that leans toward the dominant side. I mean this man always has people falling to his orders and control, maybe just once he wants you to be the one to take control of him. Ordering him around and telling him what to do. Of course he won't just submit willingly, you'll have to fight for it a little but he usually lets you win

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

↳He’s slightly above average in length. A good 7 inches, and a lot of girth. All that matters is that this man is amazing at using his dick to make you finish, and feel satisfied (not all men need a 12 inch monster cock to be good in bed)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

↳Arthur would have you under him 24/7 if he could. He likes feeling connected with you. He doesn’t need sex all the time, and he is perfectly capable of hearing “no” or working his frustrations out through other means, but just know, he wants ya, darlin'

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

↳Arthur might look like he’s out, but he’s a little more alert than he looks. Being an outlaw, it takes him a little longer to settle down fully and relax. Arthur will listen to you breathe and feel your heartbeat for a while before finally drifting off himself, he will always make sure that you're asleep first though

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Thank you for reading, please like and reblog because it really does help me out

If you want another ns/fw alphabet about another character, feel free to request for it and I'll see what I can do

Taglist: @margofiore , @cowboydisaster , @kieropal

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[cerenemuxse]

Bold of you to assume I wouldn't do a monster engine and bold of you to assume that the first vic- engine wouldn't be Edward. /j

Inspired by the aus of @ohjeeztrains and @gummybuggy

Monster engines are so damn cool.

I mixed in a bunch of animals because I said, "Fuck it. Hybrids ftw." It's so random. I chose dogs, horses, and rhinos. Yes, rhinos. I was going to add horns and I just realized I forgot but you know what, I think its fine like this. I tried fitting on horns earlier but it failed. It looks really odd. The specific breeds I chose for Edward originate from Scotland, because of course I go that deep. 💀💀💀💀

So he's based on the Clydesdale horses, the Gordon Setter dogs, the common rhinos, and the bull horns were from the Highland bulls. Can't do anything without wanting to do research.

The "leaders" (leading wheels) are based on rhinos and the "drivers" (driving wheels) are a combination of horses back legs and the dog paws. I was originally going to make them just horse legs but I started thinking about Emily, who would have "trailers" (trailing wheels). I really want them to be able to kick back but I'm not sure about Emily. Maybe she could kick forward like kangaroos. 💀 Girl stands on her damn trailers and her drivers kick forward, because that's where the power really is. Or she can do both.

I really took in the fighting aspect of it, simply because I find it interesting and it might be something they do more often than their engine counterparts, considering they're (basically) animals. They are slightly easier to tick off. Edward has a pretty good tolerance compared to the others. Basically, start biting or swatting at him and he won't be mad initially. But the longer the biting and swatting goes, the more he gets mad. He'll attack suddenly with a minor warning, which is low growling.

The long tail of nothing but hair looks harmless but its actually used a lot in fighting, too. It's pretty damn heavy so with enough force, it enough to knock another engine over. The ones with the long tails will also cuddle with said tails during the cold seasons or allow the Tank Iron Horse (oh yeah, they're called Iron Horses because why not) to cuddle into them. So now that i mention the name, let me explain it. Iron Horses refers to steam engines only. There's two main types of them: Tank and Tender. Tank Iron Horses have much thinner tails and tend to be small. If they're a Tender-Tank Iron Horse, it's definitely longer but not as thick as the Tender Iron Horses' tails. There's two forms. Regular engine forms, which existed first, and the Iron Horse forms. The Iron Horse forms were extremely unexpected when steam engines began running on railways. It's weird how they work. They can eat many things. Every single one of them is chunky as hell because I said so. They have cat-like instincts and all sorts of different species mixed in, which makes them weirder. Edward will squawk like a seagull. I might actually give him feathers, which i was debating but completely forgot. 🤡 Arthur probably has some mouse aspects to him as his class was nicknamed "Mickey Mouse Tanks." Rebecca could get swirly tail because her class is nicknamed "Spam cans," referring the cans "SPAM" is sold in, which is made of pork. Those tiny details. And I told myself I wouldn't let myself get so invested.

For other engines, I haven't figured it out.

Oh, and the "man-bun" is just the funnel. It slops up like Spencer's funnel does but depending on the height of the funnels, the slope is different.I think that's it. This was all improvised because damn it, this wouldn't leave my thoughts.

Not important, but the "NWR" logo was taken from James' ref sheets because I did not feel like drawing it. The 2 wasn't. I may have reference Edward's old ref sheets but the font is different to the one I chose for the engines. I also erased those layers so I don't even have access to it. Speaking of said design, this is the final palette for Edward's 1992-1995 rebuild. I also got brass wrong. Its not the same as Edward's eye color. Its much more yellow and it looks green when next to green colors.

I want to talk more about it but it'll start diverging into other characters and this post is already getting long. I don't like making posts long. ;-;

[potatochip-oc-dump]

i am going to dump a bit of lore on your doorstep (by copy and pasting smth i wrote on discord a few days ago) so i can give context to something i have drawn

disclaimer: it may be long and wordy. but thats what its all about baby

"in short i finally figured out how Arthur gets their name.

so to preface this i must offer. context. be warned this is gonna be one of those Rambles.

before we begin, i am debating on whether or not i should keep the 'arthur possessing gidget' thing, change it to where they possess chip (?), or get rid of it... my reasoning being: i think it makes more sense for arthur to be closer to chip especially cuz they end up as siblings in the end, ALSO i dont remember why gigi had to be the one that was possessed and i think the story would work just fine if it was somebody else.

in fact itd probably work even better with chip not only bc the theming of Being In The Wrong Body and everyone claiming u r somebody youre not works even better if its with chip, it also works cuz chip in the story is frequently like... whats the word. overlooked. or not taken seriously.

but anyways:

two, there is a plot point sometime during chip & gidget's stay in the castelle manor in which everyone but chip is trapped inside a dream by moonlight (in the waking world they are all asleep & cant wake up) bc she is searching their dreams in order to find Arthur (and kill them)

hopefully that doesnt sound. too convoluted. ah. anyways. something something chip teams up w arthur to enter their dreams and wake them up. i think.

i think probably arthur was either forced into going w chip or he agreed relunctantly, but (assuming he is still possessing someone) chip asks arthur if they can see his real face. and he agrees but in a way that makes it clear he is Lying

they wake up in (.....i dont think i have a solid name for this place yet. i think i called it Space 2 in my lore doc for the bit but i think itll be called 'otherside')

and Arthur just looks like a weird version of [whoever they were possessing at the time.] chip comments on it and art's like 'oh you mean my REAL REAL face yeah ok let me. um.' (they change into an exact copy of chip.) 'Better?'

at this point it is becoming clear that arthur might not have a 'real face,' but chip doesnt know that yet

meanwhile there is some chatter between the two, w arthur passively explaining who Midnight and Moonlight are. ALSO there is a fun fact i think about moonlight canonically having a preference for Women & that Arthur's pre-death appearance was modelled after the first human woman. i think. at one point they get onto the topic of art and chip asks Arthur if they like to draw, in which they respond: 'no.' Riveting.

something something climactic point where arthur breaks down and finally admits that they dont have a body, dont have any of their powers, and they cant even remember what theyre supposed to look like. he says that he feels useless!

& then chip says something like 'you dont have to have powers to like. create stuff.'

and then they draw together :]

chip agrees to help give him a "new face" so to speak by drawing him a FURSONA (it is a JACKRABBIT with a RAINCOAT AND UMBRELLA and an EYEPATCH and like. epic scars. and two swords. and a pet dolphin & demon wings. and other convoluted detailed design elements akin to that of a sparkledog) which they lovingly name 'Arthur.' (maybe w a last name like 'skullcrusher' or soemthing)

and arthur like draws his own version of that. which is Close to what Arthur's design is currently. & he's like 'yeah. so um. uhh. close your eyes i cant do it while youre looking.'

(chip puts their paws over their eyes.) 'um ok! what are you doing?'

'im gonna show you the real me.'

& then he looks like the character he drew."

[miiilowo]

1.Do you think finn eats dry cheerios out of a ziploc bag. What are his feelings on this.?

2. Does arthur like barbeque.

3. Can finn work a barbeque

4. Do you think finn could or would ever take arthur to like an outdoor party or music festival or something

5. Are they any existing cultural holidays or celebrations for nonhumans in your oc universe? Even ones usually celebrated alone?

6. Can you elaborate more on their relationship dynamic. Just get weird about it. These guys are so cool to me i wanna know how weird they are about each other i wanna know what's wrong with them

7. Freespace random oc fact GO!!!! (<-said like POWER RANGERS GO!!)

i absolutely do think he would do this. i do this. its human nature to munch and crunch. he would mucnh and crunch on that shit and he would love it . cept itd be something messier that gets everywhere like cinnamon toast crunch

2. hes a demon. hes gonna like meat. probably swallows that shit hole like a snake of some kind (his mouth isnt really built for chewing)

3. no i dont think he can cook i think he sucks at everything. he could try but he would burn it. inevitably

4. ONLY on halloween. think about like, venom, if youve seen the movies. the scene where hes at a party and nobody questions it because everyones in costume. itd be like that. ive thought many times about arthur being kept in the bed of a pickup and covered by a large tarp when they have to travel

5. i havent thought about that ! arthur is the only demon Around, really, and i need to work on developing his world and origins and whatnot a bit more. his purpose. etc

6. relationship dynamic. heoueugho

i guess it depends how serious vs how silly you want to view them. assuming youre familiar with the plot, there Will be issues and Problems between these two on a Very Large Scale but like. generally these are their personalities:

arthur : unfamiliar with how a lot of Human Things work, but is intensely familiar with how Emotions work and knows how to manipulate people. typically rather calculating and smart. pretends not to be interested in things generally but is deep down. very curious guy. both sarcastic and straight to the point if that makes any sense. worlds most autistic beast

finn : very silly and also very dense. cares about Everything a little Too Much typically. very confident and flashy but is actually scared of everything all the time. he has the ultimate goal of Having Fun. loves to fuck around and find out. very different men here

after the initial shock of a massive fluffy red eyed monster showing up outside his window wears off, i do think finns goal would be to befriend and possibly kiss this thing on the mouth a little. he is a monsterfucker To Me even before he meets arthur, but the combined fear of 'intimidating demon thats being a little too friendly to me' and 'omg :3 omggg' would definitely be fun to witness lmao. arthur would have to earn his trust over time and gradually they'll get more comfortable with one another. adjusting to his presence and eventually enjoying it. etc.

since finn is frequently trying to get himself killed and arthur needs him Not Dead that would definitely be a BIG thing when it comes to how they interact with eachother. arthur sort of protects him (or tries his best to) and finn thanks him by hugging him while wailing and crying and sobbing. you understand. would love to flip this on its head at some point n have arthur get hurt & let finn try and help him i think that would be gay enough. and would also be a reason for then to trust eachother and eventually . yknow. Kiss. or whatever. if you can kiss with mandibles. im sure theyll find a way

overall i want them to go from finn being weary around arthur and arthur being entirely focused on his goals to them gaining one anothers trust and arthur eventually kinda losing sight of his initial plans because finn is soooooo cute and charming and lovely. if you send me specific things about them/prompts/whatever i can get more into specifics . theyre both obsessed with one another but in very different ways. finn lets it show. arthur does not

7. finn likes to collect horror movies physically. usually on VHS. my fun fact

[oakthcrn]

❤️‍🔥🔥 listen,

Send me a "����❤️‍🔥" for how my muse would react to having a erotic dream of your muse, or "❤️‍🔥🔥" for a drabble about an erotic dream my muse has had of yours.

accepting @proofwhisky

Lark had gone to bed in the fleeting hours of Christmas Eve. The party had lasted well past the time she had made her leave. The Shelby brothers were still celebrating she assumed as she bid her goodnights to the family. It had been a wonderful party full of cheer and laughter.

She had even indulged in just a little bit of brandy, after all, the latest score had been a big one. Arthur bragged about his boxing while the others were caught up in song. Though, not Tommy. Lark found herself craving more and more to be in his presence and she was beginning to believe the feeling was mutual.

What had started as a simple gesture of politeness now became something Lark enjoyed. Those quiet moments sitting together and invoking some sort of small talk but lately, it seemed all they needed was to find each other and sit together in silence. Even their late-night rendezvous had become something more meaningful to Lark.

She adored those moments when he sat with her late into the night as she tinkered away repairing some firearm while he told her about his day. Ever since that intense moment in her shop, her feelings were beginning to shift.

Now that she was snuggled in bed and drowsy from drinking, sleep would claim her as thoughts of Tommy Shelby rippled through her mind. When did she let him so close to her heart? It wasn't supposed to be like this. Her plan had been a simple one. Hide among the Shelbys in exchange for her talent at gun repair. She had no intention of anything beyond that.

Yet...the visage of Tommy Shelby entered her mind. How he sat so close beside her in the open meadow of wildflowers of violet and orange. The sun had set behind the vast horizon and melted the world in a shroud of pinkish hue that slipped into a faint shade of purple. Twilight was her favorite time of the day. The summer breeze caressed her skin through the thin fabric of her summer dress. Just as the blinking lights of the fire flies glimmered she felt Tommy Shelby lean in and bury his face into the nape of her neck.

An awakening shiver prickled along her spine as she sucked in a soft breath. His lips connected to her supple skin and trailed soft kisses along it. Her heart began to flutter as he meandered to her collarbone. The way her name sounded lyrical as it fell in soft breaths from his lips.

Her back arched as she felt his hands slip under her blouse, his fingertips working to massage her skin as he took his time exploring her. His kisses traveled back upwards and with one fluid strike of his hand, he snatched her chin between his finger and thumb. It wasn't rough like she'd imagined it to be, but meant to hold her attention solely on him. A besotted sigh escaped her parting lips as her cheeks became flushed. Her body pressed against him of its own accord. As if it was the sign he needed; he captured her lips in a possessive kiss. It made her head swim as her eyes slid closed. The overwhelming power of his scent; was a mixture of whiskey, leather, and tobacco. It tantalized her senses and left her wanting more; needing more. She needed him in every way he could give her.

She felt her back meet the plush terrain of the meadow and when she opened her eyes, he was on top of her. A drumming of excitement rushed through and pooled between her legs as she took in his visage. The great Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders would have her. He would take her and make her forget all else.

❝ T-Tommy.❞ His name came out as a soft mewl. Light and desperate. She needed him.

Her hands shot out then and made short work in unbuttoning his shirt. She slid it off his form and let it fall into the deep grass. Her emerald gaze was fixated on Tommy. She memorized every contour of his torso and chest. She admired every muscle, every imperfection, every scar. God, he was perfect in his imperfection. Her fingertips took their time as they ghosted over his skin. He was warm and hard. Even the marred parts of him were exquisite to her. Her hands slid onto his back as he leaned in and did the same. He had peeled every bit of clothing from her. Her skin prickled against the cold air as his kisses returned.

Another shiver rushed through, a soft gasp as his hand slid up and down her thigh. Her fingers worked the hard muscles of his back, her nails dragging over his shoulder blades and down his back in long slow strokes. She could feel his mouth travel from her collarbone and down her chest. His lips met with one of her breasts. He took the nipple between his teeth while a free hand teased the other. Thunderous arousal rippled through her core as her back arched more, wanting more. Her nails dug gently into his skin and as if that spurred him on, he continued his journey downward. His hands gripped her thighs and she couldn't help but part her legs for him.

Soft, methodic breaths escaped her as he planted kisses over her lower stomach and hips. She found herself biting her lip to keep from moaning too loudly, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Her womanhood was gleaming with a slickness caused by his relentless teasing. She panted heavily as she watched him through half-lidded eyes. He nestled himself between her legs and her heart was pounding so loud from the anticipation of what was about to happen. Her jaw clenched, her body already beginning to tremble, waiting for his touch. How she wanted to feel his tongue delve inside her depths. She wanted to writhe as he took her. She wanted to think of naught else but him.

He indulged her. A loud gasp parted her lips as she felt his hot, sweet tongue filled her.

❝T-Tommy! ❞ she found herself crying out despite her attempts at being quiet. Her back arched as her hips gently began to buck against his chin. He was feasting on her as if it was his final meal. Her hand found a place in his hair and buried it there as she gripped the soft tendrils. She wondered for a fleeting moment if he would eat her whole. Her eyes closed fully as she felt his tongue slither and dip deep into her while his thumb teased her clit in a slow circular motion.

Fuck, this was dangerous. Lark moaned again and again. She bit her lip again as a soft smile spread across her lips.

❝ J-Just like that.❞ she begged softly.

Such ecstasy. She couldn't form a single thought, all she could do was focus on him. The more he feasted on her, the more aroused she got. Just as she felt herself reaching that point of no return; her eyes shot open.

She was no longer in the beautiful meadow with a shirtless Tommy Shelby. She was back in her little room peering into the dark. She was alone and certainly not being loved on by her boss.

Slowly, Lark sat up in bed, her body flushed from the fleeting dream she was happily enduring. She pulled her knees up to her ample chest and hid her flustered face in her arms.

❝ Oh...this isn't good.❞ She grumbled as she tried to put the wonderful dream out of her mind. Some lines weren't supposed to be crossed and yet her heart was determined to cross them. She nuzzled her face in her arms for a moment before exhaling a breath. She could've sworn she could still smell the faint scent of him but there was nothing but silence.

[evediaphoenix1123]

I love Trollhunters and it's saga (not movie tho don't like it) but I'll admit I honestly saw Wizards being different?

Like I knew it would probably have time travel, but part of me hoped it wasn't gonna include that. Like part of me thought it was gonna be a telling of a Future Camelot that's been frozen in time ever since the Kilahead Bridge war-

So after talking to @casualdreamworksenjoyer the both of us put our minds together to create the Time Capsule au. This is the first au I've posted on Tumblr and I plan to release others (I am just a bit scared of posting sometimes).

The au is still under development, I've got a good saying on past timeline but I'm working on current timeline events ! I've got ideas on how I really want it but it's still a process.

( The pictures are made by the picrew Gentleman of Hera and Lady of Hera)

╔═════════《✧》═════════╗

What started out as a normal working night for Douxie is suddenly shattered when he is suddenly attacked by a man in Green Knight armor. Suddenly he finds himself saved by Merlin and brought to new Trollmarket. Once he gets there Merlin informs him of the recent attack of the Arcane Order to New Trollmarket. With these violent attacks, Merlin realizes the Order is trying to capture them to find Camelot again.

Douxie, Merlin, and the Trollhunter gang travel to the hidden land of Canelot and discover the kingdom has been frozen in time and still ruled by King Arthur. Camelot will test everyone, from hidden history to betrayal of allies. The risks will test everyone and lives will be in danger.

══════════《✧》══════════

╗Camelot history╔

The kingdom of Camelot was at its prime, full of promise. It was advanced for its century, full of magic and the newest invention. It was ruled by King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But one day everything started to fall apart one by one. So many events happened at the same time, it was hard to really figure out which one was the fall of Camelot. Still, even most of the true stories that caused Camelot to be known today were burned by the King and Knights themselves to hide the sins. What the public knows is that Morgana betrayal, Sir Modred attempted assassination, the war of Kilahead, and the Order led to the dark years that almost wiped out the lives of Camelot. Even so, King Arthur held his head up high, siding with powers of magical beings they made a shield to Camelot that held them in time and held them hidden from the world. Even so the Order is still trying to get inside for something that was buried in the walls.

Douxie had been outside the gates when Camelot was locked away, he had been taking Merlin to his tomb. When he returned he was greeted with nothing so he assumed Camelot was destroyed. So he moved on trying to live his life through grief, so to say he is angry about Camelot actually being around still and no one telling him is an understatement. Still he will find out hidden truth about his true legacy, truths that where buried.

King Arthur is mostly silent, tired from everything he has went through. He has lost his sister and a few friends but he is determined to keep his kingdom healthy and to find the traitor along his ranks. He is still hiding secrets among secrets about his past, only Gwendolyn knows them.

╔The Knights of the Round Table╗

Sir Lancelot - Arthur right-hand man. The leader of the gang. He is Arthur most trusted ally. He is boastful and strongest, even though he keeps himself held high there easy to tell he is hiding something. Maybe it's secretly feeling of hate.

Sir Galahad - Another close knight to Arthur but is Merlin friend. Knows Merlin secrets. He doesn't differ much from the cannon Galahad in the show.

Sir Dodinel - A knight with the mysterious ability to tame any birds. His violent behavior scares anyone nearby and he loves to scare people. Even though he loves to scare, he does his job. He isn't scared to spill blood for the castle of Camelot, even if it is the blood of his own friends.

Sir Bedivere - A mysterious man, not much is known about him. He is as quick and strong like a snake. Even though he is considered scary by outside people, he is honestly a very sweet guy who tends to be awkward in social situations.

Fallen Sir Mordred - The Traitor tried to kill Arthur. He has been executed for his crimes. Even after death he still haunts Arthur. Even though he isn't talked about much, he was a good friend to the people. Even though he could sometimes be standoffs and cruel he was still someone dear.

Fallen Lady Morgause - Mordred sister. She was sealed away secretly, Arthur couldn't kill her. She still has many secrets hidden. She was like her twin, standoffs and cruel, but she held loyalty to her brother even when he threatened Arthur.

Sir Lucan - the Butler who can kick anyone butt, he is serious about Order and clean stuff. He stays mostly quiet and cares for King Arthur and guests.

Sir Galeschin - Arthur long lost relative who stuck up. Always known to bully Douxie to no end, due to his royal connections he takes everything way too seriously and will try to use his title against you.

Lady Flonesse - One of the strongest woman to ever exist, she was said to have faced an army of trolls by herself. She was married to Morgana, to say she still hurt by everything is an understatement. Even though she doesn't talk much about it anymore she still got some hidden truths

Sir Erec - Housewife knight. Loves his wife more then the job. He is still one of the greatest Knights around and is like the caretaker of everyone here. He is kinda like the Maes Hughes of Trollhunters.

More to come soon

[asachuu]

(4/10)

Part 3: Fifteen

Content warning: major Fifteen light novel spoilers.

[List of all parts]

[Part 2]

This may be a far, far shorter section than you would expect from me as we don’t get too much to analyze in Fifteen, compared to Stormbringer later on. I will not be summarizing the entire novel, since I have stated before that I’m going into this assuming my readers have seen both books already. This is merely a summary of the most important things which occurred that I will be referencing/referring to in terms of Rimlaine as a ship itself, and also to bring up details that could have been missed along the way if the reader wasn’t focused on them.

I would also like to add an additional note before I begin— as for Fifteen, I am only talking about the events of the written novel, not the anime adaptation of it. I believe I make this explicitly clear everywhere when I say “novel”, but I’m aware some people still may think of those two as the same or similar to each other and don’t actually distinguish between the two, even when I directly state which piece of media it is. I need for it to be said before going to write about any canonical events, solely to avoid statements such as “I remember watching something else”, “when did that even happen”, etc., considering the anime could practically be interpreted as its own separate story. Additionally, this will also apply here if an anime adaptation for Stormbringer is released, as I can’t say I have any faith in a short, animated version’s ability to not cut out or twist extremely crucial or important details from such a long novel either to save space, budget or provide fanservice, just as it did in S3.

So then, what exactly do we establish in Fifteen?

Part 3.1: the fight and Arthur’s memories

Despite talking about this novel and a major part of Arthur’s character, I will not be going over the entire section where he gets introduced into the BSD universe, nor where he explains his initial recollection of events about the Arahabaki incident. Instead, I will skip right into the fight with Dazai and Chuuya. Why? Because, to put it simply, the former parts have absolutely nothing to do with the topic at hand. As much as I could talk about them for a rather long time, they provide me with no information I could give out in terms of Arthur’s relation to Paul, which is the sole focus here.

Now, during the fight in the second half of the novel, we get to learn of Arthur’s true identity, as well as his purpose in Japan. His initial mission was to research “Arahabaki” and take it back to his home country alive, however his intent had changed significantly over time. He had no longer planned to take Chuuya, or rather, “Arahabaki” back alive, rather deciding to kill him— as we learn further on, this was not done due to a simple desire for violence, power or anything of this kind. In fact, that would go against his whole character, as it’s not only implied, but also outright stated by him he doesn’t truly want to go along with it and does certainly feel remorse for his actions…so then, what might his reasoning possibly be?

That reasoning was Chuuya’s memories. Eight years ago, when he was sent on this very mission, he wasn’t alone. Here, we learn of another character, one who supposedly accompanied him and worked with him, according to his vague recollections. Arthur had long since forgotten what happened to that person, whether he died or survived the Arahabaki explosion— all he remembered was the two being partners, even “best friends”, as he referred to him. Unsurprisingly, Arthur wished to know what happened to someone so important to him, especially after eight years of having no possibility of finding this out, and due to Chuuya/Arahabaki being present at the time of the two still being together, he believed he could retrieve his lost memories by taking in Chuuya’s ability, though unfortunately, that could only be done if Chuuya was killed. It wasn’t an act of anything other than simply a desperate wish to know what happened to an old friend of his, even if it now went against his actual mission. Despite his amnesia, desires and even his own orders, he still cared about his partner strongly enough to try and go through with his plan. That plan, however, failed.

Just as Arthur thought he succeeded in their altercation, with Chuuya seemingly not being able to fight back any longer after being heavily injured, he was fatally stabbed through by a scythe he used to pin the redhead to the ground. Instead of Chuuya’s ability itself, that was the action which made him remember the true events of his past. In his final moments, he states he was betrayed by his partner at the last minute, who is now revealed to be named Paul Verlaine. According to him, Paul had tried to kill him, and thus it’s implied he had to defend himself. In his recollection of events, he believes to be the one who ended his partner’s life, and while he does not explicitly state this himself, as I assume he wasn’t even able to, he hints at it. This part of Fifteen ends with Arthur passing away, thinking about Paul in his very last thoughts.

Part 3.2: Paul’s appearance

This is a part which many people are not aware of– Paul’s actual appearance in Fifteen after Arthur’s death, which was not even mentioned a single time in Fifteen’s animated rendition. It will most definitely be a very short summary, given it is a rather short part itself, yet it’s quite crucial to my points.

The section revolves around Paul getting into the Port Mafia’s office during nighttime. As he himself claims, it was to retrieve a document of “[his] best friend’s life”. One could even begin to think he did care about Arthur the same way he was clearly cared for by the latter just with that line alone, yet the rest of his dialogue entirely disproves this.

I could certainly point to his proclamation of Arthur’s memory being “interesting” due to him having mistakenly remembered ending Paul’s life, seemingly being amused by it with such wording, but there’s a far more glaring example of this that does not require any amount of analyzing whatsoever. Following this, he then goes on to thank Chuuya for killing his former partner on his behalf before stating he wishes to meet him. Even if one was to reach for rather far-fetched assumptions, there is no grief or regret expressed by him to be found at any point during this specific part, rather the opposite— this was supposedly what he wanted to see happen. The section ends with him disappearing into the night, confirming a sequel to the novel.

[Part 3.3]

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Thought You Knew - a Malevolent fanfic

Faroe overhears.

John grieves.

Hastur denies.

It’s unwise to assume based on incomplete information. Still… can anyone reallyhelp doing it?

Part of the Surrogate series.

AO3 ——

Faroe is nearly eight years old. 

She’s good with a bow and arrow. She can even shoot while riding Nibbles, now—not always with accuracy, but that will come in time.

She’s good with both sword and dagger, and is a fair hand at mixing poisons and their antidotes.

She knows she’s good with the harp, knows she’s good with languages, knows she’s getting very skilled with spellwork and diplomacy and maps.

Faroe knows to trust herself—her opinions, her feelings, her skills.

That’s why, when Nibbles wakes her to hear her people (father, uncle, uncle’s weird friend) arguing again into the night, she’s disturbed that her instinct says it’s about her.

#

It’s very naughty to slip out of bed like this. To creep near the music room, to tip-toe in the shadow Nibbles provides, to try to make out just what they’re saying.

Because she can’t be right. Why would they be fighting about her? Dad loves her. Uncle Arthur loves her. John… is  weird, but he is still trusted, still safe. Why would they be fighting about her?

The music-room doors, grand and carved and heavy, are closed. Through it, muffled, unclear, are words.

“—too young!” uncle Arthur bellows.

Yes, Arthur! says John with great enthusiasm, which he always seems to do in those rare moments Arthur isn’t weepy.

The rumble of her father’s voice. “—telling you as a courtesy. You have no say in the matter!”

More shouting. She can’t make it out.

She leans, pressing her ear to the door.

“It is necessary!” Dad. “She must learn!” More unclear shouting. “—must be feared!”

“—loved instead!” Arthur.

“—naive or willfully stupid, but she—“  Something something. “—loved and feared, as I am!”

What were they talking about?

Yelling; growling. 

Uncle Arthur: “—giving her a choice!” Something something. “—to lose your daughter!”

Oh!

They were talking about her—but in what way? About what? 

And there are other sounds now, choked sounds, not good sounds, like maybe dad is hurting someone. It’s a sound she’s known all her life, but surely he wouldn’t do that to Arthur, why would he ever—

And then John commands. Fm'latgh!

It’s a minor spell. One she’d learned years ago, one designed to burn—to light candles, mostly, though Dis had taught her to use it on any assholes who ever tried to grope her.

But John couldn’t do magic. John didn’t even have a body. He shared it with Arthur, who wasn’t attuned, which would be a deadly thing to—

A gasp, a thump, and John is shouting. Arthur! Arthur! Fuck, Arthur! Wake up!

Faroe gasps. Pushes open the doors.

Finds her father cradling Arthur Lester, who looks dead, who is limp, who is pale, who—

“Faroe!” says dad. “Quickly! The gn'bthnknyth spell you just learned! Arthur is in trouble.”

The heartbeat spell. She can do that.

They do it together, both of them, using power and will and careful magic to settle  Arthur’s heart, to make it beat and beat well, to force his system into functioning.

They push until his eyelids flutter, chant until she can feel that Arthur’s body has resumed its duty and his heart is beating on its own and he will not die.

Arthur is all right. She will not panic (she wants to panic). She will be calm and measured.

Her breath is unsteady and afraid.

Arthur is all right. He has to be. “What happened?” she says.

“An excellent question,” says Hastur, low (and she knows her dad, and knows that this scared him, because Arthur dying is obviously terrible, so he couldn’t have been strangling him before this happened). “John? Why don’t you explain what happened?’

John makes a bad sound. It’s not a sob, but it’s close. 

“I see,” says dad. “We will need to work this out tomorrow—but tonight, I think, we have all earned bed. Don’t you think so?”

Faroe doesn’t feel like she could sleep after this. 

John hurt Arthur. Probably not on purpose—those two were close—but he had.

It must show on her face. Dad goes soothing. “My daughter. You have saved him.”

That feels good to know. It does. “You couldn’t do it on your own?”

“Of course, but you helped so much, my precious one,” he murmurs. “When we worked together, the risk to him was fully mitigated. Why are you awake?”

“I heard you shouting,” she whispers.

The slightest pause, the tiniest hesitation. “Did you hear about what?”

“No.” It is flawless deception.

He strokes her hair, holding her close. “Can you sleep again after all this excitement?”

“I’ll try.” She doesn’t understand what happened here. Faroe likes to understand. 

She’s missing too much information.

Nibbles eyes Hastur, is all eyes at Hastur, a shadow with dire distrust. 

“Rest, children,” says Hastur. “He will be fine.”

Nibbles makes a sound that defies description, but makes the lights in this room flicker.

“You’ll be okay, Uncle Arthur,” Faroe whispers, and kisses his clammy forehead. She leans into Hastur. “You promise he’ll be okay?”

“He will. I have him stabilized now.”

She strokes uncle Arthur’s hair. “Love you, dad,” she says to Hastur, and leaves. Nibbles follows, a disgruntled stormcloud with hooves.

“Well, well, well,” she hears Hastur say before she closes the doors. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

There’s no more shouting. 

Why would John do such a thing? What had happened in there?

Faruffin… you lied.

Kayne sounds amazed, even awed, as if she’d done a good thing.

I know, she replies, climbing back into her bed (which had to be expanded to accommodate Nibbles’ bulk). “Thank you for waking me,” she says to Nibbles.

But… you lied to your daddy. Perfectly, I might add.

She sighs. I didn’t want him to worry. After all, they were fighting about me tonight.

Just tonight, Faruffin?

Oh… oh, that was not a good question. What do you mean? Elucidate.

I thought you knew. They always fight over you. 

Faroe does know. 

She’s not sure how, but she does. She just doesn’t understand why.

Arthur nearly died. Her heart has not settled yet, and a wise ruler delayed decision until equanimity was achieved.  I need to think on an appropriate response.

Kayne laughs in her head like that amused him. It’s not a good sound, but then, dad’s laugh is pretty big and scary, too, and so is Nibbles’, so Faroe isn’t particularly bothered. Well done! All right. Sleep on it, then we can talk about… steps.

Which means a new spell. Because that’s his answer for everything—learning a spell to soften the situation.

That helps, strangely enough. It feels very good to know what to do. 

There is no more shouting, and Faroe falls back asleep.

#

Arthur wakes with a start, like popping a cork. “John!” he gasps.

I’m here. Shhh. Take it easy.

The room is quiet. Breeze from the garden moves through, carrying scent and sound and birdsong. “Fuck,” Arthur says. “I feel like hell.”

You… you’re not okay. John presses his hand to Arthur’s chest. Stay down. Your heart had… trouble. Last night. They s… they saved you. But you need to rest.

That’s the logical thing to do, of course.

Arthur, however, has never been all that logical. “I will in a minute. I need to talk to Hastur,” he says, apparently determined to resume the argument that nearly got him killed, and slides out of bed.

John is panicky. Arthur, did you hear me? Your fucking heart stopped last night. Lie down.

Arthur’s face in the many mirrors is pale, frightened—and far too fucking determined. “So. I’m on my last legs, then.”

What? I didn’t say that!

“You said I had a heart attack. I’m barely over forty. That’s not great, John. I need to act now before I can’t.” He’s feeling his way toward the basin.

Arthur, that’s not what happened!

“Then what did? I don’t remember.” Arthur washes his face, finds yesterday’s clothes on the floor, and picks them up. “I remember fighting about Faroe. I remember… Hastur’s going to teach her to kill? I don’t even remember going to bed.”

That’s because he fucking put you to bed, John grouses. 

Arthur stops and considers. “Hastur undressed me?”

He’s bathed you more than once.

Arthur apparently thought dancers did it, or something, and makes a face. “Don’t tell me any more. You’re going to give me another heart attack.”

Arthur, that isn’t funny!

“Didn’t say it was.” Arthur heads for the door. “I need to find Hastur.”

Arthur, I’m the reason your heart stopped.

Arthur freezes, hand on the door. “What?”

John’s having trouble talking. I… tried to cast magic last night. Through our body.

Arthur frowns. “I can’t do magic.”

Yeah. I mean. You probably could, but you haven’t been attuned. So. So it stopped your heart. I almost killed you.

John sounds bad. Really bad. He reaches up, touches Arthur’s throat, checking his pulse, a familiar motion, as if he’d been doing that all night.

Arthur is silent for a long moment. “What did you try to cast?”

Burn spell, John says, low, gravelly. I wanted to hurt him for grabbing you like that.

Arthur laughs weakly. “At least I would’ve died for a good cause.”

John fails to see the humor. He makes a twisted sound, miserable.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur takes a deep breath. “I still need to talk to Hastur.” He opens the door.

Arthur! Wait!

“Where would Hastur be this time of day?”

How the fuck should I know?

And Arthur says: “You can feel where he is. I know you can.”

John sounds stunned. How did you know that?

“Because you know how to avoid him.” Arthur’s walking toward the public area, outside Hastur’s private rooms. 

Deduction?

“Sure.”

Arthur, you used deduction. John’s voice is shaky. You haven’t done that since we got here.

“Sure. So where is—what the fuck?” Arthur stops. Tears? Tears, streaming down his cheeks. “But they’re… These aren’t mine,” he says, softly, wiping with his right hand. “John?”

You almost died. Your heart… it… it stopped working. It took Faroe and Hastur together to save you. I almost killed you.

Arthur sighs.  He grips John’s hand. “I’m okay. I… fuck, Faroe saw me having a heart attack?” Arthur squeezes his hand. “I forgot you could cry with my tears.”

Done it before, John says, stuffy—which is ridiculous without a nose, but still happens. You were crying at the same time, and didn’t know.

Arthur stands still for a long moment, his thumb rubbing the back of John’s hand. “I still need to talk to Hastur, John. I promise I’ll lie down after. Dis will have to hunt me down to get me to do anything today, okay?”

John’s still sniffling. And after a moment: You deduced. You haven’t done that in so long.

“Well. I suppose I haven’t entirely lost the knack, then,” says Arthur, and walks on.

John gives in. I know where he is, but he’s holding court. You won’t be able to talk to him right now.

“We’ll see,” says Arthur, who, even broken, has absolutely no respect for monarchist malarkey.

#

John wasn’t kidding. Hastur is holding court, and the place is packed.

There is more than a little conversation, some of it loud, and a lot of it angry. There is discussion of territories, allotments, some kind of upcoming games Carcosa will evidently be hosting—

And Arthur is not in his composer’s uniform… but he is marked.

Straight, John says. Careful. You’re going to have to push your way through.

But Arthur does not. One by one, they see him. Conversation stops; monsters do doubletakes and part, stepping aside.

Uh. They’re moving for you, says John, neglecting to mention the rest.

“Convenient,” Arthur mutters, and keeps moving forward.

He brings a bubble of awkwardness with him, an expanding and sharp attention on his way to Hastur’s throne. He walks with what looks, in the mirrors, like a lack of fear—as if the madness-inducing beings gathered around pose him no threat, as if he has seen so much, felt so much, that nothing here matters.

John is proud of him. John also wishes he could shake some sense into this foolish, fragile human. Stop here. This is as close as supplicants can get. I hope you know what you’re doing, Arthur.

It’s a lot quieter in this room now.

Arthur waits. He’s gotten better at waiting since coming here, since being broken for so long.

“Composer,” Hastur finally says, and his tone is completely unreadable. “To what do I owe the… honor?”

Ah, there’s the mockery. “Sir,” says Arthur. “I bring news.” He thinks that’s the kind of thing they say around here.

“Do you? Perhaps you should share it with a more appropriate chain of command.”

Nope. “Regarding the mother.”

Fuck, John says, and that’s the only warning before Hastur picks him up. 

Hastur is rough, grabbing him, clearly not hiding his anger. “I will return!” he announces to the room, and moves.

Arthur tries to speak.

“Silence, Composer,” Hastur snarls, and then a door slams. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you think she will be safer if people know she’s related to you? Do you?”

“No,” says Arthur, shaking. “Nobody knows who I am. But you need to listen. You’re making the same mistake as Bella’s father.”

Daniel? says John, baffled.

“What about him?” Hastur snaps.

“You’re not giving Faroe a choice,” Arthur says.

Hastur laughs, and it is an evil sound. “This again? I thought I was clear last night. A choice? I’m giving her all the choices! She will be able to do anything, to go anywhere, to command as she wishes!”

Arthur, what are you doing? John whispers.

“You’re going to lose her,” Arthur says. “I’m trying to stop you from doing that.”

There is a long pause.

Arthur, what the fuck? says John.

“And I suppose now you’re on my side, are you?” says Hastur. “As if you wouldn’t swoop in like the little thief you are and try to take her from me like you’ve taken my other half?”

“And do what, when I did?” says Arthur, and his voice breaks. “And do what? You fuck. What could I do? Just make her feel bad? She…” He stops, and has to swallow. “I hate that you have her. But she is happy. And she’s strong. And she’s going to have a good life, even though you keep fucking things up.”

“You dare—”

“But you are going to lose her if you insist on her following your path without any space for her to forge it herself!” Arthur finishes. He pushes at the tentacles holding him. “Put me down.”

“No. I have to make an example of you,” Hastur mutters distractedly, as though he needs a reason to keep hold. “She has no reason to dislike the path I’ve planned.”

“That’s not the point. The point is you’re not giving her options.”

Hastur’s growl is low. “She isn’t you. She won’t refuse simply because it wasn’t her idea.”

Arthur swallows. “She’ll be more likely to follow your idea if you at least fucking tell her why.”

Another long silence.

From out in the other room, someone laughs loudly. 

“Why would you tell me this?” says Hastur with grave suspicion.

“I’m trying to prevent you from hurting her, you absolute piece of—” Arthur chokes off as Hastur squeezes hard, just for a moment.

“Careful, Arthur,” Hastur rumbles, low. “I give you many unearned freedoms, but they can be taken away.”

Fuck’s sake! He might—his heart!

“As long as you aren’t casting anything, John, his heart will be fine,” Hastur says, and finally drops him.

Arthur lands badly. “Fuck! Ow.”

“Stay here. Do not leave for another hour. If you do, I will toss you back in, this time with something broken so you cannot leave again so soon. I wish them to believe I have punished you for interrupting. Are we clear?”

“You’re…” Arthur swallows. “You’re not going to actually punish me?”

Which meant Arthur had come in here, fully sure that’s what Hastur would do, and said it all, anyway. Arthur! 

“And have to deal with you healing?” says Hastur. “You’re a pain in the ass, Arthur. Slow. Unwieldy, like a ruined paintbrush. Push me, and I will do it—but I’d rather just play out this foolish scene, and then you can resume your duties.”

“Practical.”

“I always am.”

Arthur snorts.

And Hastur just leaves. Sweeps away, slamming the door. They can hear him booming away out there, proclaiming who the hell knows what.

Arthur…

Arthur exhales. “Where are we, anyway?”

War room.

“Great.” Arthur rubs his sore ankle. “What’s in here?”

Not much. A huge table, on which is a model of various places in the Dreamlands. That’s it. Not even a window.

Arthur sighs. “He better have listened.”

Why would you do this? Why would you risk so much just to say something totally unnecessary?

“It was very necessary.”

You could have died last night, and here you are, risking his wrath for what? For what? 

“For her.”

John growls. He tries to hold it back. He can’t. Always for her! Always for fucking her!

“John, she… she’s my daughter.”

She’s his daughter! (And Arthur flinches.) And when you do this, every time you do this, it feels like I’m not enough. Ever. It’s always for her that you pull yourself up!

Arthur rubs his face. “John…”

She doesn’t need any damn thing from you! She has him!

And because Hastur even put fucking mirrors in his war room, John gets to see Arthur twist. Gets to see his face tighten, lips pull back. Gets to see him go pale.

Gets to watch Arthur go silent.

Fuck. Arthur, I… 

Arthur shakes his head. “You’re right. I know that.”

No, I’m sorry. I did it again. Like before the prison pits. I used her to hit you. Just like fucking Hastur.

“You’re not like Hastur.”

And then John gasps. I used her to hit you. Before the pits, we… I almost completely drove you away. I probably gave him the idea. John begins breathing too fast. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, no…

“John.”

No. No. He got the idea from me. I did this. I did all of this. Oh, fuck.

Arthur sighs. “It doesn’t matter. I already forgave you. We’re here. It’s done. And I fucking need you.”

I did this. I did this. 

“John!” And Arthur smacks his left hand.

Ow! What?

“I need you ! Will you just fucking listen to me for once?”

John can’t. Arthur, this whole thing is my fault. I gave him the idea. I showed him how to break you!

“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass,” says Arthur.

That’s… that’s a weird visual, Arthur.

“I don’t care. Faroe is alive, and I would go through any damn hell for that to happen, and yes, this has been hell, but you know what? I need you! I need you! You keep… talking about me doing things for her, but I wouldn’t be here to do them if not for you!”

John groans. You wouldn’t have to. You wouldn’t have been broken. You—

“I need you, you absolute donkey, and you’re throwing a pity party instead of listening to what I have to say,” Arthur says, almost primly.

Arthur! I am the reason this entire fucking thing happened!

“Well, then thank you.”

Arthur!

“You’re the reason I’m here. I’d have given up. She isn’t enough to keep me alive, John. I thought you knew, for fuck’s sake.”

She… she is, though. It’s for her. Kayne, and—

“You think that would have gotten me through those long nights in that room? With nothing but the breeze to talk to? With monsters more than happy to end me, with a balcony waiting, inviting me to walk off? You really fucking think I’d have made it without you in my head?”

John is quieter. I do. Arthur, you’re… you’re incredible.

“And you’re an idiot.”

Arthur…

“I don’t care about fault. I care that we’re all here, and alive, and I need you. All right? I never would have made it this far without you. And if that’s not enough to counter whatever else you’re feeling, then I don’t know what to do for you.”

Arthur, I nearly killed you last night. I hurt you with your own daughter twice.

“Well, I’ve hurt you plenty, too.”

Not like this.

“Bullshit. Or are you forgetting that I made you so angry that you literally punched me with my own hand a few years ago?”

John snorts. That was nothing, apparently, to what I’ve done to you since.

“It was kind of funny, actually.”

It was not!

“Not at the time, no, but have you ever thought about how it looked from the outside? We were practically Buster Keaton.”

John finally laughs, just a little. Maybe. And then tiny, almost inaudible, he says, But it doesn’t take away from how much I’ve hurt you.

Arthur sighs. “I’m fine.”

Is this why you keep bringing up merging with him?

Arthur stiffens. “No. I keep bringing it up because you’re hurting. And I don’t think you’re okay. I’m not trying to get rid of you. I need you.”

You need someone. Quieter: Maybe not me.

And Arthur chuckles.

John was unprepared for that. What?

“Who the fuck else is going to put up with me? It’s the piece of an eldritch god or nothing, far as I can tell.”

John snorts. You’ve got a point.

“You see?” Arthur chuckles again. “You’re stuck with me. Sorry. And if you don’t like it, go spit.”

John reaches up and checks Arthur’s pulse again.

“I’m fine. Quit it.” Arthur shoves the hand away. “Tell me more about the room.”

I… fine. I already did. There’s not much to do in here. No books. Just that map on the table.

“Walk me through it, then.” Arthur stands. “Which way?”

Left. John is more than happy to leave this conversation behind. Feel your way forward—there. That’s the moon.

“That’s the fucking what? ”

At least telling Arthur about the moon’s inhabitants and many cities makes the hour go by fast.

#

Faroe can hear them fighting.

She thinks they’re in the war room this time, which is a boring place she barely considers. She walks the hall, as regal as she can be, trying to find a spot where she can make out what they say, but it’s no good. The warded soundproofing on that room scrambles everything, exactly as designed.

She sighs. “Think they’re fighting about me again?” she says to Nibbles.

Nibbles nuzzles her and nearly knocks her off her feet.

Faroe giggles. “Goof.”

Nibbles does it again.

Faroe clings to the bark this time, small, strong fingers slipped between cracks. Okay, she thinks at Kayne. I’m going to try the spell.

Be careful, Faruffin. Like I warned you this morning: this spell is bigger than you are. You won’t get everything. And if you do it for too long, you’ll pass out. Kayne sounds gleeful.

I understand. Thank you. And there in the hall, clinging to her best friend, she tries to cast the eavesdropping spell.

Her sight disappears, which she expected. Unexpected, she’s  must have aimed it wrong. Instead of dad and uncle Arthur and John, she’s got the sycophants in the throne room.

“—right there, double-marked and all,” one says. “I can’t believe it. The rumors were true.”

“What do you think he’s doing to him in there?

“Fuck if I know. What did he mean about ‘the mother?’”

Laughter. “It’s human. Who knows? They have loads of mothers.”

“I don’t envy him the discipline he’s receiving after this, though.”

“Liar. You’d do anything to be on the other end of those tentacles.”

“Gro’hj, not so loud!”

Ew. Faroe turns the spell off.

The mother?

The mother.

If this argument was about her, then could it be her mother?

Dad has never told her who her parents were. She’s asked; she pieced together she couldn’t be Hastur’s biological get two years ago. When you’re older is the only answer, and it drives her nuts.

More logically, the fight had nothing to do with her, and ‘the mother’ is unrelated.

Faroe wobbles. Even a few seconds of that spell took it out of her.

Nibbles nuzzles her, concerned.

“Get me to bed, okay?” she says, even though she outgrew midday naps a couple of years ago. 

It didn’t have anything to do with her. Logically.

But if it did…

Uncle had meaning.

“Uncle” Arthur would mean he was related to her via one of her physical parents.

But why would he never have told her about them, if that’s true?

Perhaps because she had not asked.

Nibbles gets her to bed, and Faroe has enough energy to toe off her shoes before collapsing. 

She doesn’t have enough information to form a complete picture. She knows she does not, and has long been taught the dangers of assumptions in ignorance.

In spite of that, she’s starting to see a shape, a shadow; some big thing, enticing and secretive, that itches in the back of her mind like a scab.

When she wakes, she’ll ask dad. 

Or maybe, instead… she’ll just listen in.

Good girl, Faruffin, says Kayne right before she falls asleep, and Faroe passes out, wearing a smile. 

#

Hastur is short-tempered through the rest of court.

He is short-tempered through the night’s gala, and short-tempered as he roams the palace late, snapping at anyone he finds out (whether or not they are permitted). Finally, he leaves his palace to float over his lands and his city, to enact justice where he wills, to do what he is meant to do: rule.

He is a god . He does not need parenting advice from the worst human who ever lived.

It’s inconceivable that she’d rebel. She’s never evinced the kind of rampant foolishness Arthur does—but Hastur knows nothing about her mother being Arthur’s stained memories. Could it be possible that something from Bella could cause trouble?

Surely not.

Surely.

Hastur cannot bring himself to simply do what Arthur said. That’s too much.

But maybe he could twist this suggestion to his advantage.

It could be a means to teach Faroe how to think. How to choose.

How to choose, specifically, the path he’s laid before her. 

It’s not a terrible idea. And it’s his twist, not Arthur’s. None of that… nonsense about complete freedom of choice. 

Who the fuck would do that with their child? They might make the wrong one!

No. No, he could swing this. He could lay it all out—show her his reasoning. Then she’d not merely be following, but pursuing the life she ought to live.

This would work.

Hastur spots a pickpocket and twists the man like a pretzel, snapping his spine and squeezing his flesh into rivulets, all while not even bothering to come down out of the sky.

Witnesses scream. It’s wonderful. He is their god, and these are his people, and he loves meting out proper justice with an audience.

Yes. This idea would work. 

Hastur goes home, making plans, turning this into his idea—one he is working with at all only because Faroe is, at heart, mostly human.

Not that he’d needed Arthur’s advice, of course. He’d have come to this conclusion on his own soon enough. Obviously.

It was all going to work out fine.

[multific]

Something New

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Meeting Steven and going on that date at the stake house even if he was days late was the best decision of your life.

Having powers certainly had its disadvantages, but it also had many advantages.

You being part of the Avengers, and fighting for what's right always gave you a feeling of belonging.

But after Thanos, and what happened with Tony, you needed a change.

You moved to London where one day, you met Steven Grant. The lovely gift shop worker took you off of your feet immediately. You thought you could finally have the quiet life you knew you needed, but of course, that wasn't the case.

Because why would it be?

Steven was a sweetheart. Who called you days after your date was supposed to take place. But you ended up going.

"Sorry! I'm stuck in traffic, I'll be there in about 20 minutes." and you were, you weren't able to dress up or anything but he didn't seem to mind, he even got you chocolate and flowers.

You soon learned the truth about Steven, Marc and Jake. You met an Ancient God, who was probably the sassiest God you have met in your life.

And they all made you realize, that a quiet life is not what you wanted, you wanted them.

One day, while you were at the boys' place, you were watching TV while Steven fed the fish. He let out a sigh.

"You know, Love, sometimes I do miss working at the museum." he said as he sat down next to you. "I do not miss Donna, but the people and the fact that I could do something producive was nice."

"Nicer than defeating Arthur?"

"Well, working there didn't feel as cool, but now all we do is sit here at home, Jake is making money from the cab but... I feel like I rely on you a lot."

"Of course you don't. I like helping you and it's not like the money is mine." you probably shouldn't have said that.

"W-What do you mean?"

"Oh, I-I mean... You know that I can control people? Make them say, do or believe things?" he nodded and you noticed in his eyes, all three of them were listening. "Once I made an extremely currupt polititan believe that he should send me at least 5 million per month. I donate most of that money and only use what I really need it for."

It took them a moment to fully realize what you just said.

"So-you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Yes. So, paying for things is no problem really. I also have some money when I worked for the Avengers."

"Okay, but we also want to provide for you, pay for dates, buy you nice things. Maybe even a nicer apartment where we can live together."

"I like this apartment but if you'd like a job I'm not going to stand in your way." you said. After that of course Steven had many questions about your powers and source of money.

But you had a plan. A plan so great, you jumped into it the next day.

You walked into the museum with confidence. Telling Marc you needed to be somewhere while he went to chase Khonshu.

"Good morning Miss, how may I help you?" asked the guy at the front, obviously implying if you wanted a ticket.

"I have a meeting with Mr. Jones this morning."

Mr Jones, the boss of them all, the manager of the museum.

The guy behind the desk didn't even ask anything. 

Your magic surely worked.

"Mr Jones, I came to talk to you about Steven Grant. I think you made a terrible mistake firing him. Especially since after you reviewed the footage, it is clear that his ex-suprvisor, Donna was behind the vandalism."

"Oh yes. I'd like to offer him his job back." he nodded, eyes cloudy from your magic. 

"His job? I'd assume you feel so bad for firing the wrong person, you'd instead offer him to be either a tour guide or the supervisor of the store, whichever he will take."

"Correct Ma'am."

You smiled, satisfied.

"Great, call him as soon as I leave."

And with that, you stood up and walked out of the museum.

---

Steven wasn't even sure if he should be there. He just got a call from the manager of the museum and called him in for a talk. 

Did they want him to pay for the damages he caused?

But as soon as he entered the office, the air felt different, it was light and inviting. 

He sat down in a chair with a cup of tea that was placed in his hand.

"Mr Grant, I'd like to apologize in the name of the entire museum. We made a terrible mistake." Mr Jones turned on the TV which showed the night when Steven was attacked, but the end was different, very different.

"We failed to recognize that Donna was the main culpit and she tried to frame you due to her jealousy."

Instead of Marc, the ending showed them walking away and then Donna sneaking back into the restroom.

Which never happened.

Steven put two and two together but Mr Jones spoke up.

"I would like to deeply apologize again and to correct this mistake I'd like to offer you a position. We are aware of your passion for Ancient Egypt and I'd like to offer you a job as a tour guide. We can never have enough and since summer is coming, we expect more groups."

"I-Oh-I-"

"Of course, I do not expect you to accept this offer right away. I do understand how insulting you must have felt when I fired you for the wrong reason, I'll give you time of course and you have my number in case you'd like to accept."

Steven took another look at the video then at Mr Jones before thanking him and he left.

"It was her. It had to be."

"Of course it was." said Marc in his head as he saw him in the reflection on the bus. 

"We need to tell her that this is not okay."

"Amigo, she literally went to your boss, got Donna fired because you mentioned that you miss work. I really don't think we should mention this as a bad thing so directly." 

As much as Steven didn't want to, he agreed with Jake, he knew this wasn't the right thing, but he also knew Donna had this coming.

Yet, they couldn't let this slide.

You were at his place, sitting at your usual spot. 

"Hi, Babe."

"Hi, Love. Can we-Can we talk?"

"Sure. Did you get a call?"

"I-I did but you really didn't have to." 

"When I went I originally just wanted to get your job back, but at the shop, there was a new guy, a new "Stevie" if you will, and she was just yelling at him, being rude, so she got what he deserved." you said as you watched Steven space out and Marc take over. 

"You really are amazing, your power is something else, and I know Donna's a bitch lets face it, but-"

"No buts. She deserved it, she abused her power, end of story, you should think about the job, are you going to accept?"

Marc didn't like how you avoided the question but he let out a long sigh and looked at the mirror then back at you.

"Maybe, it would be really good for Steven." 

"Then accept it. I'll miss you though, but it would be good for all of us." you said as you moved closer to him on the couch, he pulled you closer to himself.

---

A couple weeks later, you stood outside the museum, it was rather late in the afternoon. 

"Love!" you turned to see Steven walking down the stairs. 

"Hi." you said as you walked over and kissed him on the lips. "How was your first day?"

"Really good! They are obviously still training me, but I know the basics now. I still got a lot more to learn." 

You were happy to see him so excited about his new job and that you could help him.

All night he talked about it as you two sat down in a restaurant to have some dinner. He didn't even let the others front, he was so excited, he told you things like four times. But of course, you didn't mind. Seeing the shine in his eyes told you everything you needed to know, it proved you did something right. 

--

A/N: I actually live pretty close to the museum Moon Knight was filmed at, every day when I go to work I think about Steven. 🌙💖

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[helliontherapscallion]

Scientia Potentia Est (Adrenaline Junkie Part 10)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: slight PTSD, mentions of death/dying, some description of injury/scars, slight panic attack

Word count: 2,734

(A/N): how are yall liking the story so far? 

You were woken up by the obnoxious chirping of various songbirds right outside your window. Cracking open your heavy eyes, you glanced at the clock on your wall. 7 AM. You only got about an hour of sleep. Great. 

Groaning, you reluctantly left the beckoning warmth of your comfortable blanket cocoon and stretched out your limbs. You stood up and trudged towards your luggage that laid haphazardly in the corner of your childhood room. Awkwardly twisting your body around to take off the sensors attached to your back and sliding off the prosthetic, you put it on your bed. Pulling out a random shirt and pants without giving them any real thought, you shambled off to the bathroom to shower and preen your wing. 

You stood under the warm running water for a while just doing nothing but trying to wake yourself up. The steam drifted idly throughout the room as you stepped out of the shower and finished your morning routine. You still felt dead inside even after your refreshing shower. Is this what Philza felt like in the mornings? Is this what death feels like? Oh wait. You already knew what dying felt like, you’ve died twice already and you had the scars to prove it. 

The scar on the right side of your back remained prominent and very noticable, but it faded slightly around the edges. The other scar that stretched across your cheek and stretched down to your stomach was new. They were red and raised. You remembered how you got them like it was yesterday. You, your brothers, your nephew, and Tubbo were following Eret still celebrating your win. You all completely trusted him, he was your teammate after all. Trusting him was a mistake. It was foolish. That power hungry bastard blew up everything you and your brothers built and worked for. He was a traitor to L’manberg. Everyone present lost a life in the explosion.

You shuddered, remembering the explosion. You remembered the feeling of extreme heat on your skin and the deafening boom that left a ringing in your ears. You remembered laying on the ground several feet away from your brothers’ corpses. You were the last to die that day. Everything hurt as you laid there slowly bleeding out from the deep gash running from under your eye to your midsection. The plumes of smoke floated up towards the sunny sky as everything burned around you. You hoped you would suffocate from smoke inhalation before you would bleed out again. The flames licked at your skin, almost taunting you with your oncoming death. Why couldn’t you have died instantly like everyone else? Why did you always have to die painfully?

A soft knock snapped you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you realized that you were clutching the side of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white. 

“(Y/n), are you in there?” It was Arthur. What was he doing up so early?

You wiped at the tears that had gathered in your eyes and cleared your throat. “Y-yeah buddy. I’ll be out in a second.”

You turned on the water faucet and splashed some cold water in your face. It somewhat worked for the blotchiness and redness, but your eyes were still puffy. You were just going to have to get out of the bathroom and pray that Arthur and Philza won’t notice. You took a deep breath and opened the door. There Arthur stood looking at you happily.

“What’re ya doing up so early bud?”

“My brother said that I’m a morning person.”

Brother?

Despite your confusion, you did your best to grin at him. “Well, early bird, do you wanna help me make breakfast?”

His eyes lit up with excitement and he jumped up and down slightly. “Yes please! I love cooking, Mama and Papa would always let me help!”

Oh, you absolutely hated not knowing something. You needed to have that chat with him as soon as you could. 

You smirked. “C’mon then, lets go get started!”

He sprinted down the hallway and towards the stairs. You felt a slight panic flare up inside of you. “Arthur, please don’t run down the stairs!”

To your great relief, he listened and slowed down to a brisk walking speed. You speedwalked over to him. For someone so little, he was surprisingly fast. By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, he was already in the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, Philza was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. As per usual, he looked like he’d rather go back to sleep. You walked over to the coffee maker and poured yourself a cup, you were going to need it. Philza’s tired eyes followed you as you poured the steaming liquid into your mug.

“Tired?” His voice was raspier and deeper than usual.

“Yeah, didn’t get much sleep last night.” You sipped at the bitter drink before wrinkling your nose and stirring in an ungodly amount of sugar. Sipping it again, you sighed in content. That was much better. 

You walked to the chest and pulled out some bacon strips, eggs, and bread. Setting them on the counter, you turned to Arthur. He was standing on his tiptoes trying to clearly see over the counter. You chuckled, pulling a chair out from the table and dragging it over to him so he could stand on it. 

“Don’t get too excited kid, we have to wash our hands first. Then we can get to the fun part.”

Arthur scrambled over to the sink, pulling his chair along with him. Though he was extremely excited, he actually took the time to properly wash his hands. Once you both were clean, you both got to cooking. You let him scramble the eggs and butter the toast while you did the rest of the work. You didn’t want him to get burned, especially by the bacon grease. 

Cooking was quickly done with Arthur’s help and before you knew it, breakfast was already halfway done. Over the course of eating, Philza was slowly waking up and adding his own input into the conversation. You were hardly paying attention when Arthur asked you a question.

“Hey, (y/n), where’s your wing?” 

“Hm?”

“The fake one.”

Your eyes widened. Shit, you forgot to put it back on after your shower. You suddenly felt every single little touch on your amputated wing. The chair, a light breeze from the open window, the brush of feathers from your complete wing, everything. You felt vulnerable and naked without it on. You felt powerless. 

“Oh, I- must’ve forgot to put it back on again. Excuse me.”

You stood up from your chair, a screech resounding from the legs scratching against the floor. Taking care of your half-eaten breakfast, you tried to hurry up to your room as fast as you could scolding yourself the entire way for being so forgetful. So stupid. 

You locked the door behind you and saw your silver wing laying on your bed staring at you, as if taunting you for leaving it behind. You rushed to put it back on. Though you felt your muscles tense up because of the sudden cool, it felt incredibly relieving to have your wing back on. You felt whole. 

You awkwardly twisted around to fasten the leather belts around the base of your amputated wing and attach the sensors back onto specific spots on your back where your flight muscles were. You put one on your deltoid, one on your trapezius, one on both teres muscles, one on your infraspinatus, and lastly two on your latissimus dorsi muscle. It usually took you at least thirty minutes of testing the prosthetic’s movements and moving the sensors around slightly to get the placement of the sensors exactly correct, so you assumed that breakfast was over and done with ten minutes ago. 

Your wing was finally connected and fully functional, so you left your room in search for Arthur. You eventually found him in the basement in your old workshop looking through your filing cabinet of blueprints. He mustn't have heard you come down the stairs because he didn’t react. He just kept looking through your old papers, pulling a few out and putting them on a nearby crafting table. 

“Arthur?”

He jumped, the paper he was in the middle of pulling out slipped back into its place inside the filing cabinet. He didn’t turn around to face you at first, so you thought that he was just trying to catch his breath from your little scare. Feeling bad, you walked closer and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you. What’re ya doin?”

“I-I’m looking at your old inventions, Philza let me come down here to look at them while he tried to find me more clothes I could wear that fit.”

“Buddy, you should’ve waited until I put my wing back on, I could’ve shown you my prized inventions.”

He looked down to his feet. “I’m sorry (y/n), I just really wanted to see them and you were taking so long. I couldn’t wait.”

You frowned, putting a finger under his chin and making him look at you. You saw guilt darkening his eyes. “Arthur, never say sorry for wanting knowledge. Knowledge is perhaps our greatest weapon against the unknown in the universe. I want you to remember the phrase ‘scientia potentia est’.”

He sniffled. “Scientia… potentia est?”

“Yes, it means ‘knowledge is power’. Knowledge and power are two very… wide subjects, which is why I like the phrase. In a way, it means that you could pull off anything with knowledge. A lot of inventors live by that motto. Personally, it’s a motto that I swear by. Having knowledge gets me out of a lot of sticky situations,” you kindly smiled at him. “Now, do you want me to show you how my prosthetic works? I could even show you the first prototype if you’d like.”

To your delight, the smile that you often saw him wearing quickly returned and he nodded vigorously. You could get used to people wanting to know how your inventions work and why they worked the way that they did. You spent the next two hours explaining and answering questions about your prosthetic. You let him hold and examine your old leather wing. You showed him how the sensors were placed and warned him that if they were even very very slightly off, the wing wouldn’t work right. You even let him craft a sensor with you. 

“So, do you have any interest in being an inventor when you grow up?”

“Yes, I wanna be just like you! You’re like, the bestest inventor ever!”

You took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “Arthur, would you like to become my protégé?”

He scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes in confusion. “Your what?”

You lightly laughed. “Do you know what an apprentice is?” He shook his head. “Well, I want to take you under my wing. Teach you everything I know.”

His eyes comically stretched and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water. If it were possible, you’d imagine stars shining in his eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Naturally. You’re perhaps the most ambitious person I’ve ever met in terms of your goals, and at such a young age too. I’ve never met anybody besides fellow innovators that actually wants to know how my inventions are made. It’s refreshing in a sense. Would you accept me being your mentor?”

“I- yes! Yes, yes! A million, no, a billion times yes! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cheered, squealing with delight and jumping up and down. 

You laughed. “Woah there bud, cool your jets. We have work to do, but first…” you sighed. You really didn’t want to ruin his moment, but you needed to talk to him about this if he were to become your apprentice.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes still wide with excitement. “First what?” “First… we need to talk. About your story, I mean.”

“What do you mean? We are talking.”

“No, not like that. We need to talk about your family. And how you want me to help you with The Warden.”

He visibly deflated, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to change moods so quickly. It was almost unnatural how fast he switched emotions. “Oh… Do we have to?”

“Yes, Arthur. We have to trust each other if we’re gonna work together.”

He shifted on the balls of his feet and fiddled with his thumbs. He looked very anxious to talk about his family.

“If you want, I can show you where I go to relax and think. Would you like that?”

He nodded and wiped at his eyes. You grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. Since Philza was out, you wrote him a little note and put it on the table where he should see it right away if he came back before you two. You grabbed your satchel and filled it with two glass vials of water, a few snacks, and a blanket. Arthur just stared at you confusedly. 

You led him outside and hesitated. Should you ask him if he wanted to fly? It would be a lot faster to get there. “Arthur, would you like to fly there? I know it’s scary, but once you get used to it it’s so much fun!”

He reluctantly nodded, so you bent over and wrapped your arms around him to pick him up. You felt him tense up as you prepped for take off. “Hold on tight, I promise I won’t drop you.”

You pushed yourself off from the ground with a powerful flap of your wings causing Arthur to shriek in surprise. You and Arthur shot into the sky at a moderate speed. When you steadied yourself high above the treeline, you looked down at the boy in your arms. He had his eyes tightly closed and he was shaking slightly. “Arthur, you can open your eyes now.”

You watched as he peeked one of his eyes open and looked at you, you smiled encouragingly at him. “Go ahead, look around.” He observed his surroundings with caution before he opened his other eye. He was looking around in amazement, taking in every single detail from a bird’s eye view. You snorted before redirecting your attention back to flying. You needed to pay attention, especially when you had a passenger that would carry on your legacy after you die. 

The flight went by with Arthur giggling at various mobs below and sometimes pointing out something he thought was interesting to you. Your destination was now several meters ahead of you. Landing, you set Arthur down steadying him when he stumbled a little.

You took out the blanket and spread it across the grassy ground, smoothing it out. You beckoned Arthur to sit down next to you on it and you two overlooked the boundless expanse of the grassy plains. 

“This is where I came up with most of my inventions. It’s where I first tested my prosthetic. There’s where I jumped off.”

“How’d you know it worked?”

“I didn’t before I tested it. Looking back, it was stupid of me to do. Never, ever, do what I did.”

“What if-”

“No what if’s. Consult me before you test out anything dangerous in the future. I mean it, Arthur.”

“But I want to be like you.”

“Trust me kid, you don’t wanna be exactly like me. Besides, you’re you. You’re not (y/n) Minecraft. You’re Arthur Fox. You’re your own person and it’s important for you to understand that. Never let anyone take that away from you.”

He fell silent as he contemplated your words. You assumed that nobody’s ever told him that before, both due to his young age and potential lack of adult figures in his life. 

“Artie, you can tell me about your life when you’re ready. Take as much time as you need, we still have half the day left before we have to start heading back.”

He wordlessly nodded, turning his gaze to stare blankly past the cliff. In the meantime, you would wait patiently until he felt comfortable telling you.

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[sineala]

Tony Stark and Arthuriana

Coming to you by special request, a very long post about 616 Tony's interest in Arthuriana, with a focus on all of Tony's run-ins with Morgan le Fay!

I feel like I should disclaim the extent of my knowledge here, which is that I still haven't managed to read anywhere near every issue of Iron Man -- at least, not yet, anyway -- so I'm just going by the things I know I've read, and Morgan le Fay's Marvel wiki entry is frustratingly under-cited, so it's very possible I've missed something relevant, but I'm pretty sure I've got the big stuff down. My other disclaimer here is that I'm not as big an Arthurian nerd as Tony is, which is to say that most of my familiarity comes from modern retellings -- T. H. White's The Once and Future King, Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave, Rosemary Sutcliff's Sword at Sunset -- and not so much the usual classic sources on the Matter of Britain, though I've read bits and pieces of them.

(This is because I wanted to read versions of them that were as close to the original as possible but so far have not ended up finishing any of them because, well, that's hard. So I've never read the Mabinogion because I do not know Welsh. I've got the Norton Critical Edition of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur, which is probably the best student edition if you're looking for something without modernized spellings, as I was. I've also got -- well, okay, it's my wife's but I'm borrowing it -- a relatively recent Boydell & Brewer edition (ed. Reeve, tr. Wright) of Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), which is, you guessed it, in Latin with a facing English translation. I haven't gotten very far in it because, in case you didn't know this about Latin texts, the beginning is pretty much always the hardest, so I gave up and read some Plautus adaptations instead. Anyway, if for some reason you too want to read Geoffrey of Monmouth in the original Latin I'd recommend that one, but I can't recommend any particular English translations because I've never read one by itself. I bet you didn't think you'd be getting Latin prose recommendations in this post. I mean, maybe you did; it is me, after all.)

Okay. Right. King Arthur. Here we go.

We've got:

Flashbacks to Tony's childhood in late Iron Man volume 1

A brief discussion of Morgan's origin story and Avengers #187

Iron Man vol 1 #149-150: Doomquest

What If vol 1 #33: What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?

Iron Man vol 1 #249-250: Recurring Knightmare

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom #1-4

Avengers vol 3 #1-4: The Morgan Conquest

Civil War: The Confession

Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11: Time Is On No One's Side

In terms of universe-internal chronology, we know from Iron Man #287, from 1992, that Tony has been a fan of King Arthur since childhood. This is an issue of a fandom-favorite arc which features Tony having a lot of childhood flashbacks, including the famous "Stark men are made of iron" line (in #286) that for some reason MCU fandom decided it loved; I mean, seriously, I've seen that quoted in way more MCU fic than 616 fic. But slightly later, in #287, we get an entire page devoted to Tony's love of King Arthur.

The narration reads: "Over the next few years, I learned as my father intended. Discipline of body. Strength of character. But in what free time I was allowed, I worked my way through the school's library. At thirteen, I discovered Mallory [sic], who showed me a whole new world. A world of dedication to a cause greater than oneself. Of chivalry and honor. And the fantastic deeds -- of armored heroes."

The art shows Tony as a child sitting under a tree, reading a book labeled Mort D'Arthur by Mallory [sic] -- no, don't ask me why nobody at Marvel checked how to spell either the name of the book or its author -- and daydreaming of King Arthur, the Sword in the Stone, knights, et cetera. Just in case you somehow missed the extremely blatant hint that we are meant to understand that Tony's knight obsession heavily influenced him becoming Iron Man as an adult, we see one of his armors mixed in with all the drawings of knights. So, yes, canonically Tony is Iron Man at least partly because he's a giant King Arthur nerd, which I think is so very sweet. I love him. He's such a dork!

(This issue is currently in print in the Iron Man Epic Collection War Machine, should you need your own copy.)

This isn't actually the only reference to Tony as a King Arthur fanboy in this era of canon, either; a little later, in IM #298, we see that one of Tony's passwords is actually "Mallory." (Yeah, no, they still couldn't spell. But it's cute.)

But in terms of actual publication order, this is definitely not the first time we have seen in canon that Tony is into Arthuriana, as I'm sure you all know. I would assume, in fact, that giving Tony a childhood interest in Arthuriana is because Doomquest is one of the most beloved Iron Man story arcs of all time, and that all started at least a decade before IM #287 here was published.

The villain of Doomquest -- the one who isn't Doctor Doom, at least -- is Morgan le Fay. Yes, that Morgan le Fay. Yes, Arthur's evil half-sister Morgan le Fay. Yes, all of this King Arthur stuff is canonically real history on Earth-616. Morgan's first appearance in Marvel, per the wiki, was in Black Knight #1 (1955), which I have not read, and judging by the summary I feel like this is probably just supposed to be a straight-up comic retelling of Arthurian legends for kids; I don't think Marvel really had the whole Marvel Universe in mind as a concept in 1955, so I'm not sure this was meant to connect to anything else. I feel like this is another one of those instances of Marvel discovering that they can write comics about characters in the public domain for free -- like, I'm pretty sure that's how we also ended up with, like, Norse, Greek, and Roman mythology wedged into 616.

As far as I can tell from the wiki, the first time Morgan tangled with the Avengers (or indeed the larger 616 universe) in any way actually predated Doomquest -- it was in an early arc in Spider-Woman (#2-6) and then Avengers #187, which came out in 1979, actually right when Demon in a Bottle was happening over in Iron Man comics. If you read #187, Iron Man is not in it because he's off the team due to his drinking problem and also his accidentally murdering the Carnelian ambassador problem. So Wonder Man's filling in instead. This issue is part of Michelinie's rather sporadic Avengers run, which makes sense, I guess, considering where we see Morgan next.

Anyway, Avengers #187 is the classic issue where Wanda is possessed by Chthon, but what you may not remember from Chthon's backstory (I sure didn't!) is that he was summoned by Morgan le Fay because she was the first person who tried to wield the Darkhold to summon him. As you can imagine, this did not work out especially well for her and her followers and they had to seal Chthon away in Wundagore Mountain, which was where Wanda found him. (The Spider-Woman stuff is only slightly earlier and also appears to be about Morgan and the Darkhold; the Darkhold is not one of the areas of 616 canon I am especially conversant with, alas. It's on my to-read list.)

Doomquest, as you probably know, was a classic Iron Man two-parter in Layton & Michelinie's first Iron Man run that set up Tony and Doom as rivals; Doomquest itself was IM #149-150, in 1981, and then in their second IM run they came back and did a sequel in 1989, Recurring Knightmare (IM #249-250), and then the much later four-part sequel to that was the 2008 miniseries Iron Man: Legacy of Doom, which was also by Layton & Michelinie but generally does not seem to be as popular as the first two parts. They've all been reprinted, if you're looking for copies; I have a Doomquest hardcover that collects the first four issues and then a separate Legacy of Doom hardcover. Currently in the Iron Man Epic Collection line there's a volume called Doom, which confusingly only collects the 249-250 part of the storyline (as well as surrounding issues), because for some reason the first Layton & Michelinie run isn't in Epics yet but the second one is. So the beginning of Doomquest isn't currently in print, as far as I can tell. I'm sure you can find it anyway.

So what's Doomquest about? Okay, so you remember how Doctor Doom's mother's soul is stuck in hell for all eternity? Well, Doom's obviously interested in getting her back, and the strategy he has embarked on is to try to team up with other powerful magicians who can help him out, and he thinks Morgan le Fay would be a good choice, for, uh, his quest. Doom's quest. A Doomquest, if you will. (If you've ever read Doctor Strange & Doctor Doom: Triumph & Torment, you're familiar with the part where he later ends up waylaying Strange for this and they go to hell together. And if you haven't read Triumph & Torment, you really should, because it's amazing.)

So Doom is off to his time machine to go team up with Morgan le Fay and Tony thinks Doom is up to something -- Doom has been stealing components for his time machine from a lot of people, including Tony -- and he follows him and it turns out one of Doom's lackeys has a grudge and wants to trap Doom in the past forever, and Tony gets caught up in it. Now they're both in Camelot. Surprise! #149 is actually all setup; they don't get to Camelot until #150.

IM #150 begins with Doom and Tony thrown back into the past; there's a fandom-famous splash page of them locked in combat, only to realize that they have found themselves in Camelot.

They are then discovered by knights; Doom would very much like to attack them, but Tony, who naturally would be happy to LARP Camelot forever, persuades him to play nice. Also Doom thinks Iron Man is only Tony's bodyguard so he keeps referring to him as "lackey," much to Tony's annoyance. Somehow everyone thinks they're sorcerers. Can't imagine why. The knights take them to meet King Arthur himself, and Tony has clearly had his introduction all ready to go, as he introduces himself in a timeline-appropriate manner, says he's here to apprehend Doom, and demonstrates his "magic" by levitating Arthur's throne. Doom's response is essentially "I'm the king of Latveria," which is, y'know, also valid. So they're guests at Camelot for the night while Arthur figures out what to do with them.

We then have a page devoted to Tony alone in his room, musing sadly about how alien he feels, how he doesn't know if he'll ever get home, how he could never fit in here without his beloved technology. Then a Sexy Lady shows up to keep him company for the night, and he decides maybe it's not all bad. Thanks, Marvel. I guess they can't all be winners.

Doom is using his evening much more productively; he compels one of the servants to tell him where Morgan's castle is, because he's still interested in having that team-up. Then he jets off. Literally. He has a jetpack.

The next morning Arthur's like "one of you is still here and one of you has punched a hole through the castle wall and flown off to join Morgan so I guess I know which of you is more trustworthy." He then explains to Tony who Morgan is, because Tony professes ignorance, because clearly we had not yet retconned in Tony's love of Arthuriana. Tony offers to go fight Doom and Morgan with Arthur; meanwhile, Morgan and Doom have teamed up and Morgan has offered to help get Doom's mother out of hell if he commands her undead armies against Arthur because for Reasons she can't command them herself anymore. So that's a thing that happens.

So, yes, it's Tony and Arthur versus Doom and Morgan. Fight fight fight!

Tony tries Doom first but then decides to hunt Morgan down, and in the ensuing fight we get what I think is Tony's first ever "I hate magic," a complaint that we all know he still makes even to this day.

Anyway, Tony freezes a dragon with Freon (mmm, technology) and Morgan gets upset and disappears, so the battle comes to an end, and of course Doom is extremely mad at Tony because he blames Tony for Morgan not sticking around to save Doom's mom, because I guess Doom trusted her to keep her word? Weird. (Like I said, for the next chapter of Doom saving his mother, go read Triumph & Torment.)

Doom says if he and Tony work together, the components in both of their armors can send them both home. So Tony has to trust Doom. Which he does, because he really has no other choice. They build a time machine and Tony makes Doom agree to a 24-hour truce when they get back, so they can both get home. So it all works out okay, and they end up in the present, and Doom tells him, ominously, that they will meet again. Okay, then. That concludes the original Doomquest. It's fun! You can see why fandom likes it.

So that's all well and good, but you might have noticed that Tony's ability to get home hinged on Doom actually being trustworthy. And Doom was. But what if Doom hadn't been? What if he'd just stranded Tony in Camelot forever As you may have surmised from the form of that question, that is in fact a question Marvel asked themselves, because, yes, there's a What If about this! What If v1 #33 is "What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?"

The divergence point from canon, as you can probably guess, is the very end of Doomquest. Instead of Doom bringing Tony home, he deceives him and leaves him in Camelot. And since Tony cannibalized a lot of the tech from his armor to make the time machine, he doesn't have a way to go home.

This is not a story where Tony comes up with a way to go home after all. He really doesn't get to go home. But instead of drowning his sorrows in mead -- because, remember, Demon in a Bottle has already happened and Tony is sober now -- he decides he might as well just play the hand he's dealt. So with what's left of his armor, he defeats some enemies that Morgan rounds up to send against Camelot. And for his services, he's knighted. He is now Sir Anthony.

Tony acknowledges that he is both living the dream and would also like very, very much to go home.

He does end up having some fun in Camelot; it's not all miserable. But he obviously doesn't want to be there.

So if you're at all familiar with King Arthur, you know how this goes, right? Arthur fights Mordred and Mordred kills him. And that does happen in this version. Except Tony is right there, and with his dying words, Arthur asks Tony to rule Camelot... and Tony agrees.

So, yes, Tony Stark becomes king of the Britons after Arthur's death and he never goes home again. The end. Man, I love What Ifs.

Heading back to main 616 continuity, there is still more of this arc to go. The original Doomquest was only two issues, yes, but it was popular enough that Layton & Michelinie did a sequel a hundred issues later, in their second run of Iron Man, and that's Iron Man #249-250, Recurring Knightmare. (In the intervening issues were Denny O'Neil's IM run, specifically the second drinking arc (#160-200), and then Layton & Michelinie came back and most famously gave us Armor Wars (#225-232). I would have to say that Armor Wars is definitely the standout fandom-favorite arc of their second IM run; for their first one, I think a lot of people would have a hard time choosing between Doomquest and Demon.) But anyway, yes. Recurring Knightmare.

Recurring Knightmare is... well, the best way I can describe it is "a trip." It is definitely a sequel to Doomquest, and it is also definitely not a sequel you  would ever have expected to see for Doomquest.

Much like #149, #249 is pretty much just setup. Fun setup, but the big action is in the next issue. We open with Doom in Latveria, on his throne, pondering which of his servants he should have disintegrated. Anyway, he's just hanging out there when a mysterious object appears. In California, Tony is suited up and entertaining the crowd at a mall opening when the same object also appears! He takes it to his lab. Please note that this is after the Kathy Dare incident, so Tony is still recovering and is walking with a cane. Doom sees on the news that Iron Man has found the same object, which cannot be carbon-dated, and he shows up at Tony's house. He criticizes Tony's taste in art.

Anyway, Doom basically orders Tony to work with him. Tony refuses, and then Doom sends some robots to attempt to steal Tony's version of the object because he thinks if he has them both he will be powerful. Doom manages to steal it, and when he puts the pieces together, both he and Tony disappear.

So where do they go, you might ask? Camelot?

Not exactly. The future! There is a great callback to the Doomquest splash page.

It turns out they are in London in 2093. Merlin brought them there. Tony still hates magic. And in the future, King Arthur is still there, except he is now a child, because he has been reborn. But he does remember Tony from Doomquest, at which point Tony kneels. Doom, of course, is not impressed. He asks why they have been brought to the future.

The answer is that things are going wrong in the future. If you do not personally remember United States politics in the 1980s, I need you to google the words "Strategic Defense Initiative" right now. I'll wait.

Back with me? Okay, so this is a future where Reagan's Star Wars program actually happened the way he wanted it to, and the satellites are still hanging around the Earth in the future and messing everything up, and Arthur and Merlin need Tony and Doom's help to stop them. Doom once again flies away with his jetpack, of course.

Tony is game to help, but he's not in an armor that can stay in space for long. This is when Merlin takes him and Arthur to the mall and Tony manages to get everything to upgrade his armor at Radio Shack. You see what I meant about this issue being weird.

Tony is out in space trying to disarm the SDI platform, which is where he runs into his future descendant, Andros Stark, who is in armor you will probably recognize from Iron Man 2020. He is referred to as "the resurrected spawn of Iron Man 2020" so I assume he's actually directly related to Arno rather than a direct descendant of Tony; Wiki confirms that Arno is his grandfather. This is all from way before Arno was contemporaneous with Tony in canon. Anyway, he's fighting Tony.

Oh, by the way, Future Doom exists. Future Doom would like to rule this future Earth and for some reason Andros would like to help him. Meanwhile, Present Doom finds out from Merlin that he can't leave except by magic and he can't leave without Tony, so he is reluctantly on Tony's side.

They need help from the Lady of the Lake, except the lake has been paved over and is now a parking lot. Merlin makes the lake come back and then of course they get Excalibur. Arthur is a kid, so he can't wield a longsword; Doom assumes he's going to take it because he is basically a king, and he's pretty grumpy when the sword picks Tony. Tony then uses Excalibur to destroy the space lasers, and I bet that is a sentence you never thought you would read. It's pretty cool. Tony concludes that magic has its good points. Tony stops Andros and Doom stops, uh, himself, and the world is saved and they get to go home. Also, Doom finds out Tony is Iron Man, but when Merlin sends them back he conveniently erases their memories, so neither of them remember anything about this and Tony's secret is still safe. And that's the sequel to Doomquest.

And if you think that's weird, wait until you see Legacy of Doom.

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom is a four-issue miniseries from 2008, also by Layton and Michelinie. Even though it's from 2008, it's set during a much more classic time in Iron Man, continuing on from where we left off in this Doomquest saga. We start with a framing story in 2008. Tony, who has Extremis now, is busy scrapping some of his older armors and reviewing his logs when he suddenly remembers that there was a whole thing with Doom that happened that he seems to have forgotten about until right now. So the whole thing is narrated by Tony in flashback.

Tony's in space fixing a satellite when a hologram of Doom shows up and summons him to Latveria. It's not really clear why Doom needs Tony's help in particular here, but Doom tells Tony that he's discovered that Mephisto would like to bring about the end of the world, which Doom finds, and I quote, "presumptive." So Doom has his Time Cube, and with it he takes Tony to hell.

(Yes, I promise this is relevant to Doomquest. There will be some Arthuriana shortly.)

Doom brings Tony to Mephisto, and it turns out it's a setup! Doom trades Tony for an item he wants from Mephisto, leaves, and Tony's going to be trapped in hell forever! Oh no! (I mean, he's not. But it's quite a cliffhanger.)

At the beginning of issue #2, we find out what the Arthurian connection is, which is that we learned that after the events of Doomquest, Morgan had been granted sanctuary by Mephisto in exchange for a shard of Excalibur that she had somehow stolen. Doom still wants Morgan's help with some magic -- he doesn't mention what it is here, but he says he needs someone of Pendragon blood, and that'd be her -- so he traded Tony to Mephisto in exchange for, I'm guessing, Morgan and the Excalibur shard.

I have probably mentioned this elsewhere, but Legacy of Doom #2 is one of my favorite issues of Iron Man ever, solely because of the next scene. We return to Tony in hell. Howard Stark is also in hell, and he is now a demon, and Tony has to fight him. Mephisto brings popcorn and watches. This is the one time in canon when Tony actually confronts his father, and okay, yes, it's a fistfight in hell and Howard is a demon, but that's comics for you. Howard spends several pages insulting Tony -- specifically insulting his masculinity, but that's a whole other essay -- until he finally insults Maria too, and that's when Tony fights back, because his mother taught him to be good. Honestly if you're a Tony fan I'd recommend this issue just for that scene.

Anyway, we go back to the Doom and Morgan plot, and Morgan casts the spell Doom wanted, which was fusing the Excalibur shard with Doom's armor. Then Doom sends her back to Camelot rather than hell, because he's still mad that she never helped him get his mom out of hell like she said she would.

Tony freezes Howard with Freon -- yes, the same trick he pulled on the dragon back in Doomquest -- and tells him, "You're no father of mine." It is immensely satisfying.

(I had been going to mention that I thought it was a shame that neither canon nor fandom seems to have really engaged with this confrontation, and I know canon never believes in narrative closure but fandom sure does -- and then, anyway, it occurred to me that since the framing story of Tony remembering this is set when Tony has Extremis, there's a very good chance that he no longer remembers remembering it. Goddammit, Marvel.)

(If I got to retcon one canon thing about Tony, I think "the entirety of World's Most Wanted" is up there. I mean, okay, a lot of things are up there, but WMW is definitely on the shortlist.)

Okay. Tony has now engineered his way out of hell, and he's back with Doom in Latveria. Doom has Excalibur. Doom would very much like to fight him. While wielding Excalibur. You get the sense that this is going to be bad. Another cliffhanger!

Legacy of Doom #3 opens with Tony destroying Doom's lab to buy time and running away from Doom and Excalibur. I should probably mention that Doom still doesn't know Tony is Iron Man (anymore), so he thinks he is dealing only with Iron Man, Tony Stark's lackey. Meanwhile, some scientists at SI think there's something weird going on with space. Meanwhile meanwhile, Tony is in a forest taking a breather when a mysterious old man walks up to him.

It's Merlin! Surprise! Merlin wants Tony's help to stop Doom from doing whatever he's doing with Excalibur. The sword makes you invincible and the scabbard makes you invulnerable, so Merlin sends Tony to Scotland on a fetch quest for the scabbard. Doom has now magically sent the sword in search of the scabbard, so the sword flies away to meet it and Doom follows. Turns out the thing that's wrong with space is a thing that's going to hit Earth at the exact place Tony and Doom are. What a coincidence! So Tony and Doom get trapped in a stone circle and fight some stone warriors and then Tony ends up with the scabbard. And by "ends up with," I mean it fuses to his armor. Next issue!

Legacy of Doom #4 is when things really, really get weird. A giant demon made of eyes (???) appears, and this demon is apparently what Doom had been preparing to fight (because it's mad that Doom stole one of its spellbooks), and now he can't, because the sword and the scabbard aren't together. Thanks, Shellhead.

That's when Merlin shows up and says all is not lost. They can defeat the demon... if they put the sword into the scabbard.

"But I'm the scabbard now!" Tony says, uncomprehending.

"Yes," Merlin says. "You are."

Then Tony gets it.

So, yes, Doom has to, um, penetrate Tony. With Excalibur. I love comics. I love comics so much.

So that's a thing that happens.

And then Tony flies off and, I guess, resolves to never, ever think about any of this again.

We head back to the framing story, in which Tony, now having remembered all of this, flies to Britain, buys the land the lake is on, and paves it over, presumably so it will be there for Merlin to bring back in Iron Man #250. The end.

Whew.

Okay, yeah, I know I didn't have to summarize the whole thing, but Legacy of Doom here really is one of my favorite Iron Man miniseries. And I just want to share the love. Please read it. It's great.

But the Arthuriana fun doesn't end there! In fact, now we get an Arthurian-themed arc that actually isn't in Iron Man comics. It's in Avengers! Iron Man is involved, though.

(There is also apparently a Morgan arc in Avengers #240. I actually haven't read it. It seems to be yet another Spider-Woman arc. I get the impression that this isn't really Arthuriana other than having Morgan in it fighting Jess, though, so it doesn't seem quite as relevant. Morgan also apparently has some appearances in FF, Journey into Mystery, and Marvel Team-Up, but those seem like more of just basic villainy. Also, probably not involving Tony.)

Kurt Busiek's 1998 Avengers run, volume 3, is in large part the kind of Avengers run that is a nostalgic love letter to older comics. Heroes are heroes and villains are villains and good triumphs over evil. The Avengers all live in the mansion and are BFFs. I love it. It does assume that you are already a fan of the Avengers, because it starts out by summoning pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger and is available to the mansion, and that is... a lot of people. Thirty-nine, by my count. Also, when the entire team is magically whisked away, we are treated to the following narration, as Steve disappears: "And Captain America's last thought, as the world goes white around him, and he with it -- is that Iron Man would hate this."

The narration doesn't tell you why Iron Man would hate this, or how Captain America would know that Iron Man hates this. This is not explained later on. But if you have read comics -- or if you have read the above summary of Doomquest -- you know that Tony is absolutely, one hundred percent, thinking, "I hate magic." And Steve knows it.

The reference is not relevant to the plot; if you don't get it, you'll be fine. But that's what I mean when I say this is a nostalgia run. There are definitely Easter eggs for people who have read a bunch of comics. Busiek does this a whole lot in his work -- there's a reason you can buy an annotated edition of Marvels -- and, yeah, it happens here too. Just know that there will be references you're not getting, if you're new to comics.

Anyway. So Busiek's run actually starts out with an Arthurian arc, #1-4, "The Morgan Conquest." The name is a dead giveaway. Yes, Morgan le Fay is back. Again. For once, Doom is not involved.

The Avengers are all back from their sojourn on Counter-Earth after fighting Onslaught -- don't worry about it -- and mysterious things are happening. There are a lot of monster attacks. So pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger is summoned to the mansion, at which point we learn from Thor about some mystical artifacts that are being stolen. (They are the Norn Stones and also the Twilight Sword. That sounds like something from a Zelda game, doesn't it?) The Avengers go to try to stop this, end up in Tintagel, and then they run into Mordred. He wants to capture Wanda, presumably for Magic Reasons. Morgan le Fay casts a spell on all of them, reshaping reality. Yes, all of them. Surprise!

So now all the Avengers are living in a medieval castle and/or town; Morgan is their queen, and thanks to the power of mind-control they are all basically living in Ye Olden Times. The Avengers are all some variety of knight, except for Wanda, who is chained up in the dungeon so Morgan can steal her magic and use it to fuel all this reality-warping.

Wanda calls for help, and that snaps Steve (Yeoman America!) out of the mind control (or altered reality or whatever you want to call it) pretty fast, because Steve's always been very good at resisting mind control, and then Steve promptly goes and snaps Clint out of it, because I guess Steve is also good at inspiring people to snap out of mind control. "Oh, man!" Clint says. "Not another alternate reality! Not again!" (I assume he's referring to Counter-Earth? Maybe?)

So Steve and Clint go around reassembling the Avengers and orienting them as to reality. They get Jan and Monica easily, but then Steve insists on trying to get Tony because, I guess, he likes Tony and would really like to hang around Tony, who is half-naked and asleep in his bedroom, and certainly I am reading nothing whatsoever into this. Clint tells Steve it's not going to work. Tony has historically been fairly susceptible to mind control; it was only pretty recently at this point that he'd been doing Kang's bidding in The Crossing. But the more serious impediment is that this is Tony Stark and he would obviously like to LARP being a knight forever and ever. Tony, therefore, does not believe Steve, and throws him and Clint out of his bedroom and into the barracks.

"Iron Man's a good guy, normally," Clint says. "But he's waaay too into his whole nobleman/lord of the manor trip. That spell musta hit him right where he lives!"

Clint speaks the truth, clearly.

Anyway, they go around and manage to make pretty much every Avenger in the room other than Tony snap out, and attempt to rebel against Morgan while Tony is stil fighting them because he is Still A Knight. There's a lot of punching, because some of the Avengers still aren't free; they weren't ones Steve found.

The day is saved when Wanda manages to channel Wonder Man and break free. This gives the Avengers a fighting chance against Morgan and the Avengers are all lending Wanda their power when Tony finally snaps out of it and is on the side of good. 

Then they take Morgan down, go home, and attempt to figure out which of these thirty-nine people should be on the active Avengers team. Hooray.

But that's not the end of Morgan le Fay showing up to screw around with Tony's life! There's more to come! Not much, but there is one that I know of, and at least one more memorable reference. 

(I haven't read all her appearances or anything, but one of them definitely involves Tony; I can't swear that he doesn't appear in any of the other books Morgan shows up in, but it'd be a cameo for him, because I only know of one more arc that she's in in a book that Tony stars in.)

In a few more years, we have now entered the part of Marvel Comics history where Brian Michael Bendis writes all the Avengers books at the same time for, like, seven years running. It was sure A Time. There were a lot of word bubbles.

And the thing about Bendis is, Bendis looooooves Doomquest. If you're familiar with the very end of his tenure at Marvel where he made Doom be Iron Man after Tony got knocked into a coma in Civil War II, you have probably figured out already that he likes Doom. But he also likes Doomquest, specifically.

I mean, if nothing else, the giant splash page in The Confession where Maleev redrew the climactic Doomquest fight while Bendis had Tony talk about how deeply meaningful to his understanding of the world this all was -- and how it allowed him to predict Civil War -- was probably a big clue, right?

As far as I am aware, Morgan le Fay makes exactly one more appearance in Tony's life. And that's in Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11. Only one of those issues is named, so I'm going to assume the arc is named after it: Time Is On No One's Side.

You remember Mighty Avengers, right? The deal with the Avengers books at the time was that after Bendis exploded the mansion and made the team disband in Avengers Disassembled, the main Avengers book was no longer called just Avengers. Instead, the main Avengers book was New Avengers, and that was the only Avengers book. Then Civil War happened, Steve got killed, and New Avengers became the book about what was left of the SHRA resistance (i.e., Steve's side) after the war. So about halfway through New Avengers, Mighty Avengers starts up, and Mighty Avengers is about an extremely fucked-up and grief-stricken Tony Stark trying to run the official government-sanctioned Avengers team, with Carol's help. This is the comic with the arc where Tony turned into naked girl Ultron. You remember.

So, anyway, there's this Mighty Avengers arc where Doom is Up To Something (there are symbiotes and a satellite involved) and somehow Tony and the Avengers end up in Latveria, punching Doom. Also, by the way, Doom is visiting Morgan in the past because he likes her. The Avengers attacking his castle made him have to come back to the present, so he's kind of cranky. And he fights Tony, and in the course of the fight, his time platform explodes and sends Doom and Tony and also the Sentry to... the past.

This is one of those times where you should definitely look up the comics if possible because the way the past is visually indicated here is that it's colored with halftone dots the way you would expect old comics to be colored, although they have modern shading and color palettes. It's very charmingly retro.

So the three of them are stuck in New York in the past, and naturally they would like to leave. There's one person in this time who has a time machine and it is, of course, Reed Richards. Doom and Tony have a lot of banter in this arc; I think it's entertaining.

Sentry has to be the one to break them all into the Baxter Building because of that power he has where no one will remember him. So they do that, travel forward in time, and end up in Latveria in the present again except Doom is gone and also things are currently exploding where they are.

Doom, of course, has made a side trip to visit Morgan again and he asks her to help him build an army, because I guess this is what their relationship is like. So the rest of the Avengers are captured by what look to me like Mindless Ones and are in a cave in magic bondage, because comics. Jess comments that at least they aren't naked, because she too is remembering that memorable New Avengers trip to the Savage Land. Doom threatens Carol in some creepy sexist ways and eventually it turns out that Tony and the Sentry are fine and everyone kicks Doom's ass. Business as usual.

And the last page of the arc is Morgan alone, wondering where Doom is. So technically Morgan and Tony don't come face to face here, but I think she counts as being at least partially responsible for ruining Tony's day here. And then Secret Invasion happens and Tony has a very, very bad day.

There are a few more Morgan appearances after this, but, as I said, I don't think any of them involve Tony. She shows up in Dark Avengers, apparently, which was one of the post-Civil War Avengers titles I didn't read, and I know that recently, on the X-Men side of things, she's been in Tini Howard's Excalibur one, which I have only read a little of. No Tony there. Just a lot of Morgan and Betsy Braddock and Brian Braddock and the Otherworld.

If you are interested in Morgan's other appearances, you might like this Marvel listicle that is Morgan le Fay's six most malicious acts. I pulled some of the Darkhold backstory from their discussion, but it's not really focused on Morgan and Tony.

So there you have it! That's everything I know about Tony's love for King Arthur and every run-in I know about that he's had with Morgan le Fay! One of two terrible people in Tony's life named Morgan! Actually, I don't think we've seen Morgan Stark in a while. I wonder if he's alive. There should be a Morgan & Morgan team-up. I should probably stop typing and post this.

The tl;dr point is that you should all read Doomquest and its sequels, especially Legacy of Doom. They're great!

[gunpowderdtim]

Talk to me about narratomancy? Just whatever you want to talk about it I'm deathly interested

!!!! Today today i had so many Thoughts. To many. It almost rivals March 2020 thoughts

So

My current running names for the four pillars of Narratomancy are as follows:

Universal Story

Narrative Role Filling/Casting Call

Story Echoes

Narrative Flow/Narrative Imperative

Each of these refer to VERY different things within the concept of Narratomancy. I will do my best to describe them. I have coined every term here but narratomancy, to which I believe the honor falls to @lucky-sevens

Keep in mind this is 50% theory, 20% headcanon, 30% canon, and that you do not have to agree with me.

Universal Story

Universal Story refers to the story of the universe, not stories in the universe, the story of the universe. In other words, the story of ‘Dr. Carmilla & The Mechanisms’

This section of Narratomancy is a tad more meta than the others, as it does in some form rely on real-world events to define it, as well as having little to no in story inpact on anything. Maki created the mechanisms universe, clear and simple. She founded the band, and hashed out the earliest lore. Dr. Carmilla is the main character of the universe, not of all the stories, but of the universe. Essentially, Universal Story refers to the fact that Doc C is the main character of the universe, and that the mechanisms are her side characters, in the story of the universe. I have taken to viewing it as doc carmilla stuff is the story of the universe, and the mechanisms is a spin off of that. Both are just as canon, but not specifically canon to eachother. Regardless, the universes story is Carmilla, from starting on Terra, to Aurora, through Loreli, into creating The Mechansims, all of that. All of that is the story of The Universe. The Mechanisms backstories are included in this, of course, because they are part of Carmilla's tale, not the other way around. Through this, I conclude that The Mechanisms are a spin off, focusing on the mechs rather than Carmilla. After all, The Mechansisms are a vessel for telling stories, for fleshing out the universe.

Narrative Role Filling/Casting Call

This refers to the mechs penchant for falling into narrative roles similar to troupes that they represent, or basically acting as a crutch for a story to continue. In OUATIS, Jonny acts as The Prince figure in sleeping beauty. He saves Briar. In being The Prince, he allows Snow's forces to attack cole, and win the war. Without that whole escapade, its likely the war would have stretched on years longer, and not have ended as it did.

Or, Ashes as Hades. What do mythological Hades and Ashes have in common? Hades was eaten by his father, Kronos, because there was a prophesy that told Kronos that his children would usurp him as king of the titans. Ashes figured out Mickey was the snitch, Mickey realized beforehand and lead Ashes into a trap. Killing them because he knew that they could ruin him. Basically, a parental figure betrays the child figure due to them knowing the child could ruin/destroy their position of power. As well as, if Ashes were not Hades, the Suits would not have met, and because of that the story of Ulysses Dies At Dawn would not have happened.

Continuing, while I am not nearly as much of an Arthurian legend person as I am a greek mythology person, some quick google searches revealed a similar similarity between Merlin and Brian. Basically, Merlin and the lady of the lake. She was basically his apprentice/a lady he was in love with? She basically betrayed and killed him after learning all out magic from him. Brian brought a priest back to life, only to have the priest betray and kill him. The tying together point here is clearly the "someone you helped betrays and kills you." That or, the fact they are both magical. Beyond this, If Brian were not on Fort Galfridian, Galahad would never have sought out the grail, and the entire plot would not have occurred.

In The Bifrost Incident, the Mechanisms do not take narrative roles in the way they did in prior albums. But this does not exclude them from being vital points in the story, after all, if Ivy were not present Lyf would not have been able to recover the data on the Black Box)

In all of these situations, (barring Jonny as The Prince) the Mechanisms have had some sort of connection point in the Roles they assume, as well as in their roles, changing the story so that it can continue to the ending presented in the albums.

Story Echoes

Story echoes are, to be blatant, simply canon. No argument, no theorizing, just canon. Refers to the fact that in the mechanism's universe stories 'echo' or basically repeat. In Kofi's fiction for HNOC, its shown rather blatantly that there are more Arthurs in this universe than just the one in hnoc.

In those burning instants, he’d feel the weight of it all, and know it was true. The golden age that never came; the city that stood at the dawn of a world instead of in its dying embers. And beyond – to a myriad of Camelots and a thousand thousand Arthurs, unfathomable worlds apart, each different, each fighting the same hopeless battle.

I know there are other examples of this, but they do escape me right now.

Lastly,

Narrative Flow/Narrative Imperative

This one is also directly canon. On the mechanisms blog, this post defines it rather well.

In the ask, the asker asks "...Do you heal injuries at an abnormal rate, or can you not be injured?"

In the reply, it is stated.

It depends on the narrative imperative - sometimes a Mechanism might die for a while, and only come back later when it becomes more fun, other times they’ll just heal/ignore wounds as they take them. It’s not something they can control, but tends to follow a rough logic of whatever works best for the story.

This is just canon, no arguing or stating otherwise. A mechanisms ability to heal depends entirely on what's best for the story.

Other examples in canon where this comes into play would be as follows:

GPTVTMK. In gptvtmk, Jonny's severed head is there. Is talks. It moves. In one of the fictions, it's stated Jonny cannot separate his heart from his body. Therefore, these are contradictory. Under normal circumstances, this would be a plothole. It is not here. Under narratomancy, Jonny was capable of being a severed head due to the fact that that would be best for the story.

OUATIS. Jonny walks through rounds and rounds of bullets.

HNOC. This example is a bit different from the rest, as it is not about a Mechanism. Galahad does something pretty fucking impossible.

And so Galahad stood and walked into the corridor. The guns trained on the preacher and opened fire. 

Say what you want about faith, but it can have powerful effects on those that have it. It can keep you from faltering as the bullets start to slam into you. It can keep you walking as your legs are shot to bloody stumps. It can keep you laughing as your lungs are filled with shrapnel and lead. It can keep you smiling as half your face is blown away. It can keep a man like Galahad standing tall until the guns clicked dry.

It is my belief that this is another example of narrative imperative. Under normal rules, Galahad could never have done this. But his faith, his beleif, kept him going. And that was good for the story.

So. That wraps up my narratomancy ramble for today. hope yall enjoyed.

*EDIT: Nastya does say it's nanobots. My opinion is: it's both. The nanobots are narrative driven <3

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: Molly knows about the reader’s relatives and she’s not so sure to put her trust in a girl that had just betrayed her own family

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Hi! i’m so happy that you guys liked this thing! thank you so much for your support and, again, if you want to keep reading this let me know. Same note as ever, english not my mother language, so tell me if something’s is wrong.

Chapter 2: Not your family

The next morning turned out to be quieter than you imagined.

You slowly got out of bed and looked at everything around you noticing how quaint Bill's old room was. The ceiling was lined with grainy wallpaper with stacks of photographs of Quidditch players hanging from the reeds that moved from side to side, simulating the playing field; the right side of the room had a huge hole behind the small stool that tried to hide it, and from that hole a small garden gnome was sleeping peacefully with a small piece of cloth on top of his head. You stood up, walking towards the huge window that gave you a beautiful view of the Weasley's garden that at that moment was covered by a thin layer of drizzle that had fallen during the night.

Molly's fruit trees gleamed under the faint rays of the sun and you saw how a doxy from between the leaves poisoned Mrs. Weasley's apples, causing them to fall from the tree branches in a thick black mass with a foul smell coming out of it. You shook your head, excited to witness a very different way to wake up.

Even though several minutes have passed since you woke up, the house continued to remain in a strange silence that made you think that the family had decided to leave the burrow with the intention of buying more supplies or something like that. You knew that Bill wasn’t at home precisely for his obligations within the Order, so you didn’t worry about looking for him around the room, so you decided that a better option was going down to the dining room and know what was happening.

As you went down the spiral staircase, you cursed in a whisper when you forgot to put on your slippers before leaving the bedroom cause the floor was so cold that you slipped a couple of times. Back in the days, when you were still welcome in your parents' house, you had many servants who did all the things for you - putting on your shoes as soon as you woke up was one of those things - but now that your life had changed so much, you assumed that you would have to adapt and start taking care of your own needs.

Your curious eyes roamed the walls covered in family photos that caused a big warmth in your chest. In each of those photographs, all of Molly's children appeared along with their father, smiling for the camera and sending effusive greetings. A pic was hanging at the fireplace were Molly and Arthur were carrying a small white bundle crying his lungs out. You assumed it was Bill as his parents seemed too young back then and even as a small baby, you could recognize those tantrum features anywhere.

A giggle escaped your lips when you noticed a funny sequence from that same photo in which, even with Bill crying in his mother's arms, his father tried to carry him for a moment to calm him down, however the baby's cries didn’t stop. The baby was so annoyed that he ended throwing up  the milk ration that he must have had before the photo session on his father's neat shirt.

You laughed because you knew that William's impertinence was something he had carried with him for several years now.

"Bill hates those photos." You jumped in your place scared to see Molly standing behind you. Your cheeks turned red “He says that it’s embarassing but i think that’s nonsense. He was an adorable baby”

"he was," you answered, looking anywhere but into Molly's shrewd eyes. "but I guess displaying them in the fireplace isn’t the right thing to do."

“Is it not?

"No, they should be at the front door where everyone can see them”

Molly giggled as you watched the sequence of photos over and over again. A silence settled between you, but surprisingly it was not an awkward silence, but one that was allowing you to create a bond that neither of you expected. Mrs. Weaslsey brought up a rag, wiping it around the corners of the photo from the dust.

"Arthur and I had to save up for months to take those pictures," she mentioned wistfully, "we just had Bill and it seemed like a good idea to welcome him into our family with a gesture like that. Arthur was new in the ministry and wasn't earning too much, but we had that quirk and decided we could afford to skip certain things to pay for the pictures. It cost us ten galleons and it still took us four months to gather them”

“Oh” You didn't know what to say, but you just kept looking at the photograph feeling a bit uncomfortable. You never had those problems at home because your family was insanelly rich thanks to the inheritance in life that your grandfather Tim had left to his son and later to his grandchildren. Even the descendants of your grandfather's servants came to work in your house, reason enough for you and your siblings to grow up with no sense of responsibility other than your own wishes. Molly sighed remembering those times when life seemed to be easier.

"So when Bill asked me to remove it from the fireplace, I refused. He doesn't know how hard it was to raise that money, but I think he has nothing to be ashamed of, he was too adorable!

"I don't doubt it for a second, Mrs. Weasley."

"You can call me Molly," she said, walking back to the kitchen where you continued watching the way the pans moved back and forth preparing breakfast. You were not very good at cooking - in fact, you had never cooked before- however, that didn’t stop you from offering your help. So you took a pan, placed it on the stove, and decided that you would find a way to make a good mountain of strawberry-filled pancakes just like your dear nanny did. Molly observed you carefully. "I think that now that you are living with us it is appropriate to have a more cordial treatment.My son told me a lot about you”

“Just the good things, i hope”

“Kind of” You stopped mixing ingredients to look at her carefully” He told us a bunch of marvelous things about you and how you two met. Actually, what worries me the most is what he didn’t tell us”

And there was the recrimination you were waiting for. You were aware that it had to arrive sooner or later, however, you would have been grateful that it did it when Bill were by your side to give you the opportunity to defend yourself properly. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, knowing that what Molly needed to hear from your own lips was which family you came from. You continued your task with the pancakes, turning out as bad as you expected.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, Mrs. Weasley."

"Molly," he corrected.

"Molly" you smiled slowly "But believe me when I tell you that it was me who asked William not to mention anything about my last name or where I come from. I know that in this case, with the war above our heads, it is necessary to be certain of the people who enter your family and I apologize for that, it's just ... Bill is very important to me” Molly's eyes narrowed “Since we met ... I have found a home in him and well, all that feels when someone is in love. "Mrs. Weasley shook her head, understanding the feeling." I have experienced the rejection before. When people know that Tom Riddle is my family ... they run away in fear, curse my family and even walk away from us, as if sharing a blood bond makes us as evil as he is.

“And it’s not like that?” Molly asked with a hand on her neck. She didn’t want to be like the others and judge you without knowing the full story, just as she had promised Bill the night before that she would, but it was so difficult not to remember the death of his brothers by Voldemort’s hands and to pretend nothing had happened in the past. You sighed because the eggs you cracked on the bowl got mixed with their own shell “ I've heard of the Grants before, they're all Death Eaters, including your siblings!”

“It is difficult to have to choose a side  when you don’t have your own convictions”

"And you have it?"

You looked at Molly in pain. Of course you expected those reactions from Bill's mother, she was within her right to be upset that her oldest son never told her that he was in a relationship with a girl who seemed to have the most fucking powerful and evil wizard in the world as a great-uncle. No, Molly wasn't mad, she was deadly angry, she felt like she was bursting!

Her hands became fists and without knowing how, you found yourself between the wall and Molly's big arms from one second to the other. The pancake batter was forgotten, as was the woman's promise to treat her son's girlfriend in a good way.

"How is it possible ..." Molly questioned in an agitated voice, pressing your arms against the wall, "... that a single deer leaves the nature of its own herd?" How can you ensure that one rotten apple even in a gold container doesn’t rot the others?”Your breath caught at the questions of the woman in front of you. Once again, you were aware that your presence wouldn’t be good news to them, but at least you hoped they understood your motives before judging you “Explain to me, (Y/ N) Grant, when have you seen a pig away from his equals?”

Your words caught in your throat at Molly's fierce question. Bill had talked a lot about the temper of his mother. Even if she could be really grumpy at times, she was in general a very sweet, pleasant and maternal woman with everyone; however, you didn’t fit into that generality because it seemed that the woman was determined to kill you with her own hands.

"If my presence bothers you so much, then you shouldn't have let Bill and I to stay here."

“He's my son! All I want for him is to be happy, and that's why I don't understand what he managed to see in you”

"Maybe the same thing you saw in your husband." Molly's lips twitched in anger, but you didn't stop. You hoped that she would at least understand what your words meant, because that would make it easier for both of you to try at least get along better, even if Molly seemed not to want to do it under any circumstances. How is it that this haughty little girl dared to compare herself with her dear and wonderful husband? "I'm sorry, but I don't think this conversation is going to take us anywhere."

"If someone betrays his own family ..." Molly stopped you before you walked out the front door. The others got down the stairs, seeing the scandal formed in the kitchen “The rest of us can't expect too much, can we?

Your eyes blured.

[blinder-secrets]

Between Palms

fem!reader x michael gray

warnings: power imbalance, role play, mild nsfw (its a slow burn but hang in there trust me)

wordcount: 4,125

It seemed silly really, a birthday meal at Arrow House, but here you were. Invite accepted and fulfilled, even though you were just there as a plus one. An almost family member. Michael had you living in his house, accompanying him to every event, and yet your finger was still empty of the ring you both knew would come eventually. He’s waiting for the right moment, you suppose. It doesn’t really matter. Everyone knows he’s yours, and you’re his. Even Polly is starting to treat you like a daughter.

‘Is it his actual birthday today?’ you ask Michael, as he takes your coat in the entry way.

‘Don’t know.’ He passes it to Mary, who you’ve only just been introduced to. 'Tomorrow I think.’

You hum. This was the family version then, they’d spend his birthday alone, just the two of them. ‘It’s quite sweet, isn’t it?’ you muse. You’d never have marked either Tommy or Lizzie as the sentimental sort.

Michael snorts. ‘Sweet, yeah.’ From his smirk, you know he doesn’t even remotely agree.

‘The meal is being served,’ Mary tells you, careful in her interruption. ‘If you’ll follow me?’

‘Oh, course, sorry.’ You nod and gesture for her to continue; you’d almost forgotten that the both of you were late. ‘Come on,’ you say to Michael, offering your hand.

He takes it readily, his palm warm and soft against yours. From the look of him, his sharp suits, his set hair and his square jaw, you’d always assumed he would shy away from touches like that. That he’d keep his hands in his pockets and his character professional, impenetrable. But, he never does with you. Whenever you give your hand, he takes it, locks his fingers around it. He’d let you pull him half way across the world, you think. If you tried.

In the main dining room, you’re met by the rest of the family. They’re seated already, talking and drinking around the platters of food, the plates already filled with some expensive cut of meat. The conversation stills as you enter, a few of them beginning to stand to greet you.

‘No, no don’t,’ you say quickly, waving them down again. ‘We’ve got time for that later.’

‘Tommy,’ Michael says, acknowledging him with a nod. ‘Happy Birthday.’

‘Yes,’ you add, ‘we left your gift with Mary.’ You’re sure he doesn’t care what it is, you don’t even know that he’ll ever open it. It’d had felt wrong to go to a birthday party without taking something.

Tommy almost matches your waiting smile. It’s as much of a response as you’ll get. ‘Please,’ he says, gesturing to the two empty chairs, ‘sit down. Get a drink.’

You take your seat which is, of course, next to Michael. Your Michael. He’s holding the chair out for you, ready to tuck it in as you sit. Always the gentleman like it’s second nature. Like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. You smile up at him in thanks, but he just touches your shoulder briefly before sitting himself. ‘Looks great,’ he comments, eyes down as he scans the lay of food and alcohol before him. His accent’s stronger when he’s with them, like he picks it up at the door. At home it almost disappears, melts into something softer, some remnant of his upbringing. You haven’t decided yet which it is that you prefer. It’s what he says that charms you.

‘It’s nice of you to have us, Tommy,’ you say, leaning around Michael to smile at him.

He’s sitting at the head of the table, as uninterested in the food as you’d expected him to be. His eyebrows raise in response to your comment, and he half-shakes his head, as if to say, oh it’s no problem, no trouble. From the way Lizzie’s smiling beside him, you know that it was all her really. Her idea, her planning. She wanted him and the family to have something nice for once and so here you were.

‘And Lizzie, of course,’ you add. ‘Thank-you.’

‘Our pleasure,’ she replies gently, lifting her glass. ‘Please, eat. Before it gets cold.’

You nod and bring your focus back to Michael, who’s lit a cigarette and is now resting between drags. It sits between his fingers on the table, smoke pulling up and over his plate, swirling his meal in grey. How he doesn’t mind, you have no idea. He may as well peel it open and eat the tobacco instead.

‘Michael,’ you scold quietly, knocking your elbow against his. ‘Put it out.’

He clears his throat and sits straighter, lifting the cigarette for a final taste. ‘Was in my head,’ he comments on the exhale, before taking another sharp, final drag. ‘Think we should do something like this.’

You watch him lean forward and stub the cigarette out, into the ashtray in the middle. ‘Do what?’

‘Have a dinner,’ he says, sitting back again. ‘For you, for your birthday.’

Snorting, you shake your head and turn to pick up your cutlery. The house you have together is nowhere near big enough to accommodate for the Shelby side, let alone your family too. Not that you would invite them anyway. They’d see Arthur and go running, hear Johnny Dogg’s jokes and flush red with shame.

‘Yeah? And who would arrange that?’ you ask. You take a bite and throw him a closed-lip smile between chews. ‘I’m not doing it.’

He shrugs. ‘Well, I will.’  

The beef is cooked perfectly, you cut another piece off as you reply. ‘You’re good with numbers, Michael, not parties.’

‘Alright.’ He picks up his fork limply, too focused on the side of your face to even consider eating something himself. ‘Mum will,’ he says to you, then, turning to her, ‘you’ll help, won’t you?’

Polly scoffs from opposite. You hadn’t realised she’d been paying attention, but of course she had. She never misses anything of interest. ‘Not bloody likely,’ she chides. ‘You’ll have to do something for yourself one day, Michael.’ She’s smiling, teasing with her lips soft and curling, but it still sours him.

‘Fine,’ he says, slouching. ‘No party, then. Christ.’

You almost roll your eyes, but it isn’t often that he suggests something like this. Something flashy. Normally, any gesture of affection he has for you is quiet, private. Tucked away just for the two of you. A big party like the one Lizzie’s thrown for Tommy is entirely new; you hadn’t meant to shoot him down so quickly. Sighing, you soften your voice and say, ‘We can have a party, baby.’ He hums. You put your hand to his face, thumb angled for his chin, but he tilts his head away in the last second.

Before you can complain, Polly catches your attention again. ‘Here, love,’ she says, ‘have some more potatoes.’ She holds the dish up for you, over the centre of the table and the glasses between.

‘Sure, thanks.’

You take the offering and when you pull the dish toward you, the bottom catches on your wine glass. It tips quickly, spilling red over the table, over you. You half expect it to shatter against the edge of your plate.

Cursing loudly, you abandon the dish into Michael’s waiting hands. ‘Sorry, fuck, sorry.’ You stand quickly and the commotion hushes every conversation that had been rolling within the room.

‘You’re meant to drink it, love,’ Arthur laughs, from whichever end he’s sat at — you’re too busy patting your napkin frantically onto the tablecloth to check.

‘God, sorry, sorry Lizzie.’ It’s stained, it’s definitely stained and ruined.

‘It’s on your dress,’ Michael comments, like you hadn’t noticed.

‘Never mind the dress,’ you snap back. ‘The sheet’s ruined.’

Tommy clears his throat. ‘Its just the tablecloth, [y/n], sit down.’

‘It’ll do more damage to your dress, love,’ Lizzie adds, sympathetically. ‘It’s alright.’

You pause, huffing slightly, then sit clumsily back into your chair. It’s always you, it seems, to stand out like this. To be un-calculated, accidental. Every Shelby is so precise, and so careful, and so in control of everything at once, somehow. Michael’s a Gray but he’s got it too, the grace. Lizzie isn’t even blood related and she holds herself the same. What is it about you? What do you lack?

‘Don’t worry,’ Michael says quietly, interrupting the thought by pouring words into your ear. ‘Don’t get yourself worked up.’

You don’t answer him, you just pout and dab at the stain on your lap. The wine’s sunk in deep already. It looks purple, not red, against the fabric.

‘Mary could help,’ he offers, after sighing at your silence. ‘She’ll be in the kitchen.’

You nod and stand, clutching the soggy napkin in your palm. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ you say to the table. Your voice only catches the attention of Polly and Finn, but no-one else challenges you when you turn to leave. It’s just another of your quirks, they must think, just something you do. They either don’t care, or didn’t see.

You hurry from the room with your ears turning hot. Michael will tell you later that you were being silly, worrying over nothing, but right now it feels mortifying. Leaving the room to see a maid about a stain. In the middle of a dinner party, no less.

When you reach the kitchen, Mary startles. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, like your presence alone means she’s done something wrong, like she’s forgotten something and you’re here to chase her up on it.

‘Don’t worry,’ you tell her, gesturing to your dress. ‘I just wanted to see if you had something for this.’

Her expression softens. The gentle folds in her face fall slack and for a moment she reminds you of your grandmother, though she never had the gall to be a gangster’s housekeeper. ‘Is it wine, miss?’

You sigh. ‘Tragically, yes.’

‘There isn’t much we can do for that.’ She hums. ‘But I’ll try, please sit.’

She gestures to the table, and the chairs which are wooden, and bare, and much plainer than the dining set upstairs. It’s welcoming in a way elegance will never be. You sigh into the seat and watch her pull bottles from various cupboards, busying herself quickly. Her dress folds as she does, creasing at her waist, comfortable enough to not restrict her movements. If only yours was like that. The dress you’re wearing is too expensive, and too tight, to be any good for anyone. Now, it isn’t even pretty.

‘Mary,’ you start, stilling her as soon as the idea strikes, lighting itself as a match would. ‘Do you have any spare uniforms?’

Her brow arches slowly, like she’s unsure of your intention and even more unsure of asking for it. ‘Miss?’

‘That I can wear,’ you explain. The thought is rolling, piling up and catching speed in your head. It makes sense really, a worker’s fit for the working woman, an apron for the spills. If the Shelbys can’t find the humour in it, you certainly will.

‘Only the ones the maids wear,’ she says.

You smile. If Michael could see you now, he’d accuse you of plotting something. He’d be right. ‘Perfect,’ you tell her, ‘that’s perfect, Mary.’

If your exit was quiet, unnoticed, then your return may as well have been an explosion. A great tremor to the room and all its inhabitants. You’re barely through the doorway before Arthur’s laugh is bursting from his chest, barking over Johnny’s head toward you. From the noise of it, the rest turn in your direction. Conversation is tossed out the window and onto the lawn. Lizzie laughs, more out of shock than anything else, Polly mutters a ‘Christ’, and you’re sure you catch Finn swallowing his beer like it’s running out. How Tommy reacts, you don’t know, you don’t look.

‘Fucking hell, woman, almost lost me drink over that,’ Johnny says, speaking before anyone else has chance to.  

You reach the table and give a half-confident bow, with your gaze sitting easily on Michael. ‘Would you like a refill, mister?’ you ask falsely, twisting your voice high enough that it hardly sounds like you at all.

His eyebrows lift, eyes widening, and then they drop again, quickly, like nothing’s happened. His face hardens slightly. Then, he turns away, facing forward, and he goes very still, and very quiet, and you don’t quite know what he’s thinking. You thought he’d laugh, or at least make some snarky comment about not mingling with the help. Instead, his eyes sit on the whiskey in his hands like you aren’t even there.  

‘What the hell you got that on for?’ Arthur asks, amusement in the crinkles by his eye. ‘Eh?’

You force a smile at him. ‘Thought I’d give you something to dream about, Arthur.’

There’s few snorts in response and then Tommy puts them to rest. ‘Alright, alright, sit down,’ he says, lighter than you’d expected, ‘unless you’d like to help serve pudding.’

‘If it gets me on the payslip, I’ll consider it,’ you reply, pulling your chair out to sit.

Michael doesn’t acknowledge you still. The plates are cleared, your wine glass is upright again, refilled, and then dessert is brought out. Everything in order as Lizzie’s itinerary no doubt demanded. By the time everyone’s eating again, your outfit is entirely forgotten about. There’s no comment on the plain black dress, no jokes on the white apron that pulls it tight to your waist, no awareness of it at all. You almost regret not wearing the matching hair-band, maybe if you did Michael would have had something more interesting to say.

When the other guests are suitably distracted, he finally leans into you, whispering harshly by your ear. ‘What’re you wearing?’ he asks. You don’t have to see his face to know he’s frowning.

Your eyebrows pinch, gaze on the spoonful of tart that you’re chasing around the plate. It’s very obvious that you’re wearing what the maids wear. It’s a joke, Michael, ever heard of that? ‘My dress is ruined,’ you answer. ‘I’ve left it with Mary to work on the stain.’

‘And you couldn’t find anything else to wear?’

‘No,’ you say firmly. ‘I couldn’t.’

His jaw flexes. He downs the last of his whiskey like it’s laudanum and you’re the ache. He wants to say something, you can see it, but he holds himself back. He shakes his head like he’s knocking it down, forcing it into his throat with the liquor.

After that, the pair of you eat in silence, and when Tommy invites the party to move into one of the more comfortable rooms, you stand in silence too. You let the rest of them go ahead of you. When Polly passes on her way out, she says, ‘That’s something I’d have done when I was your age,’ and even though she’s being friendly, you wish she hadn’t. The last thing you needed now, was to be told that you were acting like your boyfriend’s mother.

You follow the crowd out of the dining room with Michael behind you. Before you can get much further, he catches your wrist, tugging you back and sideways into one of the shorter hallways. It’s dimly lit, a hardly used corridor between rooms that you’d never been to, never even noticed. He sets you against the wall, careful despite the firmness of his grip, and then his hand lifts from your arm to sit flat on the wallpaper by your head.

‘Are you trying to embarrass me?’ he says sourly, words forced over sharp teeth.  

You frown. ‘No? Why would I?’

‘This.’ His chin dips and lifts again, gesturing to the uniform. He isn’t sneering but it’s implied.

‘I had to wear something, Michael.’ You had no idea it would offend him so much. You hadn’t even considered that it’d upset him, embarrass him. It was a stupid joke and a way out of a wine-stained dress.

He breathes heavily through his nose. He’s close, very close. The heat coming off him is warming you too, making the skin beneath your collar sticky with sweat. He lets his gaze sink down your body, then drags it up again, slowly.

‘What’s the problem?’ you ask.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes find yours and harden, the angles of his jaw setting like he’s forcing it to. Oh. Oh, you think, oh, that’s what this is. It doesn’t offend him, he isn’t insulted. He’s embarrassed because you’ve found something out about him, you’ve brought something to the surface that he hadn’t even known himself, and you’d done it in front of his family, without warning.

You smile. It stretches slowly across your cheeks as the realisation solidifies. ‘Does this turn you on, Michael?’ you tease. ‘It that what it is?’

His eyes squint slightly but he says nothing. That’s a mistake — his silence just encourages you, dares you to push it further. You’re right. Now you know you are. You see it in the sharpness behind his expression, in the weighted breaths against your skin. In the way he steels himself before you.

‘Who would have thought?’ you purr, tilting your hips forward.

You catch the material of your dress at the waist, pinching it, so that your movement pulls the hem up your legs. His chin drops. The dress is bunched enough to reveal your thighs, just high enough to show the top seam of your stockings. With his free hand, he pushes carelessly under the apron and lifts, scrunching it by your hip to give him a better view. The air puffs out of his nose like he’s breathing manually, like if he doesn’t force it he’ll stop all together.

‘Have I embarrassed you, Mr. Gray?’ you drip, honey pouring from your mouth, sinking into him like an opiate. It’s new, but it’s easy. It comes naturally. Perhaps it’s always been like this; without you realising, without you caring. A power imbalance that you both liked.

You’re looking at his lashes when his eyes dart back to you. ‘Stop it,’ he warns. The apron falls down again, his hand pulls away from the wall. ‘Don’t.’

‘Why?’ You’re enjoying it too much to pay any attention to his order. ‘Would you prefer I call you Sir?’

He swallows. You bite down on your lip as you wait for a response, half-convinced that he’s about to storm away and leave you there. Then, slowly, slowly like he’s fighting and losing, letting it flood the cracks, letting it pull him under, he leans into you. His palm cups your cheek. His head drops to put his mouth just below your chin, angled and ready by your neck.

‘Say it again,’ he coaxes, voice rough over your throat.

Your breath shakes, quiet, fragile from your mouth. ‘Say what, sir?’

He exhales sharply but it catches, and for a moment it sounds like he’s growled. Your Michael, growling, with his breath hot and heavy against you. If you took drugs, this would be yours, this would be your fix. You run your hand up his side, under the jacket and over the waistcoat.

‘Do you like it, sir?’ you ask.

‘Fuck.’ The words drags out of him, scrapes through his teeth like he hasn’t realised. ‘Bring it home,’ he says, pulling his face up to look at you. He looks serious, so serious, and so desperate that it should be ridiculous.

‘What?’

‘The dress,’ he answers tightly, ‘the outfit. Bring it home with you.’

You’ve won. Somehow, you’ve won. You’d put on a uniform you had no right to wear, and now Michael was begging for you to bring it home. Desperate to have you like this, again, just for him. And you would, of course you would, you’d be an idiot to deny him something like that. To deny something so mutually beneficial. You’d get your dress back from Mary, and thank her kindly, and then take the maid’s clothes home without saying anything else. But, that was no fun now, that didn’t see to the ache that had started to build between your legs. That didn’t feed the hunger. You had Michael alone, in a darkened corridor, needy and tightroping between disciplines, teetering on the edge of his restraint. That’s too rare, too good to lose. You won’t let it end yet.

Instead, you pout your bottom lip and say, ‘Don’t you want me now? Did I do something wrong, sir?’

He groans, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

You’re impatient so, tiring of the gap, you pull him forward so that your hips are together. He’s hard, you realise, taut against his trousers. You’ve barely touched him and already he wants you, his body craves the way yours does. ‘Kiss me,’ you say messily, quickly, forgetting all about the persona you’d adopted. ‘Kiss me, Mikey.’

‘Hm?’ he hums, putting his other hand to your face, holding you still as he settles his attention on you again. He pushes back until your spine is straightened along the wall. ‘What was that?’

The slip in character hadn’t gone unnoticed. It’d broken the tension enough to give him the upper hand, to finally let him make his play.

‘You don’t talk to me like that,’ he says. ‘Do you?’ The words pour out of him thickly, whiskey and languid control melting across your cheeks, over your lips.

‘Sorry, sir,’ you reply.

Now, it was your own breath that came stiffly, unwilling to move of its own accord. Your chest rises against his because you tell it to. The pressure from his crotch grows, firm and wanting against the dip in your hip.

His tongue runs between his lips once. He’s following your expression carefully, noting each shift, each hesitation. He can see you’re cracking, you’re sure of that. The look he has is the look of a man who’s already won. One that has want he wants, but enjoys the sport of taking it. He puts his nose to the hair by your ear and breathes in deeply, sending goosebumps along your skin. ‘Ask properly,’ he says, his voice low, rumbling.

You swallow quickly. You’re flushing hot. There’s fire in you, flames curling and rising, pulling upwards from your thighs, your stomach, swallowing your heart before it can stutter a beat. ‘Please,’ you start, ‘please kiss me, sir.’

‘Better.’

His eyelids flutter once, as he looks to your lips, and then he’s kissing you. Hard. Harder than he has for a while.

Your hands go to his wrists, hanging onto him as he holds you, as he kisses you into the wall, into the house, through the brickwork and into Elysium. You moan against him and he pushes his tongue into your mouth, wanting more. Needing more.

‘Not a sound,’ he pants as he pulls away. His grip on your face disappears and then his hands are on your thighs, roughly, desperately. His palms settle behind your knees and tug them up, lifting your legs off the ground and putting them around his waist instead. He takes your weight like it’s nothing; uses his hips and his own body against you to keep you upright, between him and the wall. ‘Not a fucking sound, right?’

You nod, frantic, already reaching for him again, already pushing your mouth to his for the taste. For the whiskey. For the heat and the need, and the tongue between your teeth, for his cock, hard and ready against the softest part of you.

He pushes the dress up abruptly, piling it and the apron over your stomach. ‘I want to hear you say it,’ he breathes, forcing it between kisses. ‘Say you’ll keep quiet.’ His touch is searing, alight with something so untapped, it’s raw. Primal.

‘I’ll be quiet, sir,’ you answer pliantly. Willingly. He could ask anything of you now and you’d give it to him, you’d bleed it into his palm like molten silver. ‘Please fuck me,’ you beg. ‘Please, sir.’

He growls again and this time it’s on purpose. His face buries into your neck, into the base of your throat. He kisses the skin hungrily, wet and biting, lustful. He takes you and you let him, you invite him to, because you always have wanted it, the imbalance. The game was fake but the power is real, the submission is honest. Cultivated. It was him over you, always, and you liked that. You wanted that more than anything and now you had it, scorching between your fingers. Burning you into the wallpaper.

You moan; his hand goes to your mouth firmly, flat palm against your lips. An order without words. Quiet, he says, stay quiet. All you have to do is oblige.