#he had a specific expectation of what arthur’s return would look like and it was most definitely not this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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PUPARIA

Chapter 26 - half return

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Hosah hadn't expected airports to be so tiring. Despite sleeping for a short while in Teddy's hand before they'd need to make their merry way, clearly the flight's take off in the early hours of the morning wasn't doing him any good.

It was best to stay small for as long as he possibly could before they'd go, otherwise he'd just suffer longer with a severe case of the itching. On the outside, being five foot seven inches tall was normal, it seemed like it would be Hosah's default height, but it wasn't, and he'd acknowledged that a while ago. When he wasn't tiny, he'd yearn to be. His muscles tickled uncomfortably under his skin, beckoning him to shift again, to ease the aching and the pulsating in some way. It hurt, chronically, but he could deal with that. It was the itching that drove him crazy.

"Our seats are separate from my family's, if you need to, you can just.." Teddy's voice trailed off as he spoke, tilting his head, as if the shifter knew what he was going to say.

He did, Hosah was just far too sleep deprived to cooperate.

"What? No, I'll be alright. I need to get used to staying like this for longer anyway, it's not sustainable, y'know, shrinking all the time." Hosah spoke far louder than his counterpart, enough so to prompt the frantic gripping of his shoulders with a hush from Teddy.

He looked around, specifically for someone, before turning back to Hosah, "Quiet, he's onto us."

"Who, Dean?" The shifter scoffed, pulling himself out of Teddy's now gentle grip, "I don't care if he finds out- hell, it's not a secret. He can ask me about Arthur Emily all he wants."

"I don't want him to ask you. It's.. It's wrong, these things are supposed to be confidential." The change in stance from Teddy was surprising to say the least.

Hosah tilted his head, his scoff turning more into an amused smile, a curious one at that, "Since when did you defend the rights of Arthur Emily? You hate that guy, right?"

"I find him grating in every way of the word, but... I'm put off by Dean in a different way." Teddy kept his hand rested on the shifter's shoulder as he looked out for his brother in law.

"Why, because of what he said? About shifters?" Hosah couldn't help but push, poking the bear until he'd get an answer that satisfied his curiosity.

"Maybe.." Teddy was far too distracted to give an in-depth explanation on why exactly he didn't like Dean.

Now that he thought about it, it was rare for Teddy to hold high opinions of anyone, really. He didn't like Arthur Emily for his abuse of power and cowardice when admitting to doing so, which was a fair point, he didn't like Scotty because he was a dick, which was also a rather fair point- he didn't like Jules, or Dean, and he'd only recently had a good word to say about Jeanne. It almost made Hosah feel flattered to be in his good books, but it also awoke a deep paranoia within him that he couldn't shake off.

The feeling of being observed at any given time had ruined his life completely, to the point where he even found himself second-guessing Teddy in his nature. A little voice in the back of his head, asking if his disdain for so many of their peers and associates was a tactic, to isolate Hosah, to plant the seeds of distancing himself into his head, to make it so it would only be himself and Teddy in their inner circle by the end of it. That wasn't the case, it couldn't be, there were plenty of things to prove the idea wrong, like all the people Teddy did in fact enjoy to be around that weren't the shifter, but he still sometimes found himself with no thoughts to distract from that little voice.

"That was really cool, by the way, what you said to him." Hosah smiled, this time out of genuine endearment, ".. D'you remember what you said forever ago, about how I should give inspirational speeches or something, cause I say cool shit on occasion. I think you were projecting, because that, that was cool-"

"You don't need me to speak for you." Teddy put it bluntly, his head still turned away, eyebrows furrowed in focus.

It was difficult to not be disheartened whenever Teddy spoke particularly bluntly. Nobody could be expected to keep up a kind and gentle demeanour 24/7, and it was hypocritical for Hosah to expect as much when he himself did a fair share of snapping at his partner, but it still hurt. The good thing was, he didn't need to vocalise it for Teddy to catch on.

He turned around, his expression softening a fair amount, "Sorry, my heads all over the place. But, really, that wasn't something I really came up with myself. You're my inspiration, I suppose. I was trying to embody you when I said it."

"Stupid.. Just take my compliment, don't spin it back on me." Hosah couldn't contain his happiness at the statement, giving Teddy a jab in the ribs to make sure his point got across.

"Hey, I'm serious. Really." It was nice to see him laugh for a change, "Speaking of inspiration.."

Teddy let go of the shifter, shuffling around in his backpack for what seemed like an eternity, before he found what he was looking for, it seemed.

"I brought my camera. I mean, you, the Italian countryside, that sounds picturesque, no?"

There was a plethora of things Teddy hoarded. Train tickets were a big one, and so were pieces of fine china, and old watches he promised he'd take to a watchmaker to resell for more, but always ended up saying he'd gotten too attached to do so. The most important thing Teddy seemed to hoard, however, were photos. Albums upon albums, with every picture he'd ever taken. He must've spent half his monthly wage getting them printed, on film and various other things to keep his half a dozen cameras in good shape.

The backstory for his love of photography was a silly one, if Hosah was recalling correctly. His mother made a great attempt at landing him a job in the modelling agency she was under, but he ended up working with the photographers upon arrival rather than her intention of utilising his face for what it was born to do, to be photographed.

"God, stop it, whenever I think you can't possibly get any cheesier." Hosah let out a deep breath of what he assumed to be exhaustion, but there was a good chance it could've also, just partially, been a relief at his partner's own relaxed nature.

It felt wrong to be so happy in the moment. To share laughs, to look forward to the trip in general. Hosah had long let go of any morsel that remained of his religious beliefs, but it had to be some kind of divine disrespect to think of a death as a good opportunity.

These sort of moments of relaxation, of stillness and serenity, always seemed to be cut short in one way or another. Whether it be Dean's invasive nature, or the fact they had a plane to board, something always got in between the two.

To say Hosah had never been outside of the country before, never mind on an airplane, he took it all surprisingly well. It wasn't like he wasn't used to such a change in altitude already, to be lifted up higher than he could perceive, to feel the weight from under him be lifted entirely. It was strangely comforting in a way, a sense of familiarity when he couldn't shrink to a comfortable size. What was most relieving was the fact they were away from Teddy's family for a period of time, even if it made him feel guilty for thinking it, the stress of being around such a cast of characters weighed heavily on Teddy in particular. That much was obvious.

Hosah had heard plenty stories of his partner's grandfather, but still, he soaked in his uncertainty, even in the car from the airport to Teddy's family's farm, the unease just wouldn't wash away. It was a different sort of discomfort, he wasn't afraid of being around insufferable people like before, he was afraid of not being liked by the man. That was strange, Hosah usually couldn't care less what others thought of him. Nonetheless, he'd push it down, catching up on some sleep in the rental vehicle.

He hadn't expected to dream when he rested his head against the car window. He rarely dreamt during naps, his dreams were prolonged and vivid, when he napped, he could never get deep enough into unconsciousness to conjure up anything. It seemed lately that anything and everything was capable of completely evading his expectations. Things had never been as unpredictable as the present.

It was the familiar breeze of the air conditioner that made Hosah jolt to attention. That was the thing with the facility, no matter the time of year, that stupid machine always whirred away, even when the tips of his fingers had turned white, going numb as they were rendered completely useless. The grey prison-esque uniforms everyone was forced to wear didn't help him much in the case of finding warmth, the fabric being heavy and scratchy against his skin as it hung off of his form like an old rag. The relevance of him being a teenager in the dream was lost on him, but then again, it had only just began.

In his dream states, Hosah was always far, far more sensitive and emotional. He couldn't recall a single dream as vivid as this where he wasn't crying out in some way. The total loss of control, despite how real it all seemed, was the thing that scared him the most. He had no composure in his subconscious.

Everything in his vision was as clear as day, although he knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be real, he had all of his memories up until the current day, and he knew he wasn't in the facility the last time he checked. Now would've been a great time to get up, to look through everything in the shoebox of a room as best as he could, despite being shrunken and stuck that way- even in the depths of his dreams, to relive the little parts of his adolescence. It was the same as how he'd remembered it, plain, mind-numbingly so, appearing to be more of a holding cell than any sort of bedroom- a place of comfort, of intimacy, of safety and normalcy. His dreams never allowed him much indulgence in the things he wished to do, especially not exploring and, God forbid, finding enjoyment.

"Hosah," The voice rang familiar, but it wasn't at all accurate to the time and place he was supposed to be in. It was Doctor Aronov. Huh.

One accurate part of the dream, however, was how the door creaked open. It was a horrible, grating sound that made Hosah recoil and curl into himself, covering his tiny, sensitive ears in hopes to protect them from the loud noise.

He could tell the sound had stopped now, but it didn't mean he wanted to lift his head just yet. In the safety of his own head, Hosah was still afraid to face Doctor Aronov.

"There you are." His smile could be heard, even in his quiet whisper, "It was foolish of you to think you could run and hide from me for so long. Going as far as to miss your check-ups, were you?"

The quiet tutting of disappointment that left his lips was enough to send Hosah into a spiral of distress. It was a teasing gesture, that much was clear, but even the slightest sign of a disapproval from the doctor broke the shifter's tiny heart into a million pieces.

Hosah shook his head, his foetal position with hands being held over his ears more so to block out the sound of a reply than the creaking of the door, "I'm sorry, I would've come back- I was going to- but.. things just keep happening, and I keep putting it off, and- it's just, now it's a big mess that I can't even begin to untangle—and the only way I know how to deal with it is to pretend it's not there at all."

He wished he could control what came out of his mouth. He'd rather had stayed silent, but that would just be reinforcing the explanation his subconscious had conjured up for him to give to his doctor. In his dream state, Hosah didn't just struggle to control his tongue, but his physical reactions and outbursts too, as he began to cry. This was usually the state he'd end up in whilst he slept. It was raw, uncontrollable, and terrifying. The fact it wasn't real was the reason he was ever able to sleep at night, but even then, his dreams had become so vivid, it was hard to discern them from reality nowadays.

Even when curled up, completely avoiding his surroundings both visually and audibly, the shift in weight underneath him as the giant sat beside him on his bed filled Hosah in on the details of his situation. God damn his size, and how very gradually he slipped down the pillow, involuntarily dragging him closer to the doctor. God damn physics especially.

"There, there." Even his comfort was cold and clinical, "I understand. I understand all too well. Whilst I agree it's not in the patients best interest to read up on them before they come to see you, I'm aware of the previous diagnosis you've been given. Usually, I'd wait for you to tell me yourself, but, given your situation, the fact that help isn't something you willingly went out of your way to receive, I felt it to be necessary."

Doctor Aronov waited. It seemed he wanted to pique Hosah's interest with how vaguely and strangely he worded his statement, but in his most raw and honest form, Hosah couldn't hide his lack of a care for learning just what the doctor knew about him. Ignorance is bliss, and he'd much rather be in the dark, as he remained still as ever, curled up in himself on the pillow.

The heavy sigh that followed his expectant silence instantly drove Hosah over the edge, his instinctive need to beg for forgiveness being quickly dismissed by the raise of the Doctor's voice again.

"It's typical for these things to go hand in hand. What you said, about things leading back to one key source, or, I suppose you said event- it's not so far off. It can all be related back to something in your core. You're an anxious person, Detective. What you eat, the events in your life, maybe.. How you're perceived."

Even in a state of pure honesty and vulnerability, Hosah still couldn't manage to not be stubborn. That was more or less his 'core'. "I don't care about what people think of me."

"No, I suppose not." The doctor hummed. Hosah began to wonder what exactly was the difference between psychiatrist and therapist. "It's more like.. You're anxious about their outwardly approval of you. What they really think isn't a problem, as long as you can't tell. I'm right, aren't I?"

The shifter could sort of understand the difference, but being difficult was another core aspect of himself, "Those sound like the same thing. Outward approval, and their true opinion."

"Exactly." The fact Doctor Aronov chuckled wasn't one that put Hosah at any ease, "You choose not to acknowledge the difference between the two. That's the point. Like how you have been choosing to ignore the appointments I so graciously reschedule and replan my life around for you."

"I'm really sorry." Even in his dreams, where he is devoid of any control over what comes out of his mouth, the lingering taste of shame is still ever present on Hosah's tongue nonetheless, "I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself when stopped showing up. I'm just scared, you said you understand, do you understand- that I'm really sorry, and it wasn't a conscious decision, it just sort of happened."

"You don't have to be so sorry." His answer was fast, too fast for comfort. "You can't go back, but you can make a start to make things right- or, to make things better. Why do you think you're here?"

Hosah surprised himself with the speed of his own answer, "Because my mind won't let me out of here."

"And have you not thought to question why that is?"

"Because I know I can't go back. And I don't know how to make things better. I don't want to go back, but if I could, maybe I'd know. I've tried fucking some sense into me, to relive it, but it just piles on the dirt. Every time I've tried, I've just found myself even more lost, more... stuck in here." Hosah no longer found himself laid to appear as small as he could possibly seem anymore, as he stared up at the familiar bright off-white overhead lights he'd seen in his memories almost every day, even over ten years later.

Hosah could tell the doctor was smiling at him, even though he wasn't even looking. There was a weird sense of all-knowing he had in his dreams, he knew what was going on, and that just made his lack of ability to face and or stop it even more painful.

"That's already a start- acknowledgment. You just need to say it. Properly, I mean. We can come back to this another time, hopefully in the near future. You'll just need to fill me in, of course."

Despite alluding to the one thing that caused all of his problems to unfold, Hosah never actually told the doctor what exactly it was that happened. It was for the same reason he couldn't admit it to Teddy- he was afraid. Of being called a liar, of having misremembered, of making it all real by acknowledging it ever happened at all outloud.

"Hosah." The voice wasn't the same as the one that greeted him earlier, no, not at all.

"Hosah, cmon, what's a matter..?" It was gentle, shaking the world he currently resided in, gripping his shoulder with a light, yet earth shattering force.

"Talk to me, wake up, hey.."

The shifter jolted awake, the seatbelt having left a dint in his hollow cheek. That wasn't the only thing imprinted on his face, however, as his tears also left a stain, a tracking trail of where they'd travelled before pooling in the space between his collarbones.

"Hey." Teddy's relieved face could be made out, even through hazy, tear filled vision, "Sorry I had to wake you. Didn't seem like too pleasant of a dream, huh?"

"I need to call Doctor Aronov. I need to talk to him."

It wasn't until Hosah had blinked the coming tears out of his eyes that he realised the impossibility of it all. They were in the middle of nowhere, only a few minutes away from Teddy's family farm- where phone service was nonexistent and the closest form of civilisation was a good few miles away.

The look of pity on Teddy's face was an unnecessary one as he squeezed the shifter's shoulder, "Aw,"- he hummed- "it'll have to wait.. I spoke to him not so long ago, remember? He's happy to have me there with you, as long as you actually turn up."

"No." Hosah cut in, gripping his seatbelt until his knuckles were white, "I mean.. There's something I need to say to him, privately."

"When the time comes to it, I can give you your space." Teddy gave a reassuring jostle of the shifter's hair, before starting the engine once more. "Cmon, we'd better clock in, have dinner, get some rest.. Funerals tomorrow, after all. Then we have a day to do whatever, then we'll be back. You can talk to him soon, just gotta get through the long weekend."

That was right. Just the long weekend, then they'd be home. That was what Hosah had to keep reminding himself, as the itching began, once and for all.

Like clockwork, the car started again. His nap didn't help Hosah feel any more well rested, but he didn't dare to risk trying to get some more shut eye for the rest of the journey, not whilst he wiped at his blocked nose with his sleeve, his eyes still red and sore from how tightly he'd squeezed them shut.

"So, you dreamt of Doctor Aronov, then?" Teddy asked, innocently, his eyes focused on the country dirt road.

They would've landed around about eleven or twelve, if they were still in the US, but given the change in time zone, they hadn't gotten out of the airport until six in the evening. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't November, as the sun had set early, leaving the pair to wade through the roads with only the headlights of the car to guide them.

Hosah shook his head, still snivelling to try clear his breathing, "Something like that."

Teddy repeated his words back to himself a couple times, quietly, all smiles as he stared at the road in front of him.

"You're in a good mood." Hosah commented, more focused on trying to find tissues as he shuffled around in his bag as it sat in the footwell.

"I'm excited." He clarified, "I haven't been home since I left. My Grandpa sends post cards and letters, and all, but that's not the same."

Hosah nodded, sagely. Whilst he didn't understand the feeling that came with no longer having his grandfather be in his physical presence, he understood that letters and cards weren't the same. His own grandfather would send cards every Hanukkah, one for each of his grandchildren, besides his younger brother Noah, whom he didn't know existed. He'd address Hosah's older brother by name in writing, but he never sent a card specifically labelled for a Hosah, just 'habibi'. That was the reason specifically, why his father and his father's father stopped speaking to each-other. Complicated feelings regarding the original Hosah, and how each of them chose to honour him.

"Yeah.." Hosah wasn't sure how else to respond, saying 'I get it' was a lie, and anything else just didn't feel right. ".. Are you okay? With the funeral and everything- if you're upset, I'm here for you, you don't have to act like you're not."

"I'm not upset." Teddy's smile faltered, just slightly, "I'm more upset that I'm not upset. I feel like I should be, that I shouldn't be this happy despite it.." His words trailed off, much like the paved road, that had turned to grass and dirt now. "We're here now. And, the day after the funeral, if the weather is still good, I'll take you somewhere."

"Getting all that it's worth out of renting a car?" Hosah joked as he prepared to undo his seatbelt.

"We'll bike it. If you can manage." His words rang half honest, although the other half was just a tease, in which Hosah rewarded it with a gentle push of his shoulder, careful of the fact he was still parking all the while.

It was hard to see in the dark, but the light through the windows of the farmhouse up on the hill was enough to convince them to walk up towards it. Seemed as though everyone else had beat them to arrival. Something in Hosah's stomach churned. He wasn't afraid of what people thought of him, but the incoming reaction of the pair walking in late weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Teddy had gotten out of the car all at the same time as the shifter, and even with both their bags slung on either of his shoulders, he still paused.

"Wait." He muttered, his eyes on the house rather than on Hosah himself. Still, he was beckoned towards him, so he obliged in the request.

Despite his arms being obviously too full to embrace him, Teddy still managed to pull the shifter in close. He was always touchy, but this was far more overly romantic than he was usually willing to go outside the confines of their home. Kisses were methodically planted across Hosah's face, on each cheek, his forehead, both the bridge and the tip of his nose, his chin, and especially, a gentle, closed mouth kiss on his lips. It was extra, that was for sure.

"Because I'm not really going to be able to whenever I want." Teddy clarified, deciding just one more would do, before Hosah could come up with an answer.

Hosah smiled, knowing he’d have to let go shortly, but taking Teddy’s hand in his own anyway, “Oh, God forbid.” - he shook his head, “Let me carry one of the bags, at least?”

-~-

It was when they entered the house itself that it seemed to hit Teddy. Like a ton of bricks, the sheer amount of mass burying him beneath them. Surprisingly, he didn’t panic under the pressure. A comforting weight, one that kept him grounded against the earth.

The evening was so pleasant, as long as he could ignore everyone but Hosah and his grandfather. It was perfect, like he’d never left at all, but bringing back everything that made his leave so great in the first place. The rooms were the same, the cats he’d raised from birth still wandered around the patio, purring and rubbing around his legs as a welcoming gesture, it felt more like a celebration of victory than a mourning of what once was. A looming threat had been disarmed. The wooden spoon he remembered so vividly being struck with was still hanging on its peg, except this time, it had no one to wield it.

By the time his internal clock had decided it was bed time, despite how everyone still sat in the living area, taking up every seat there was to offer, Teddy had excused himself to ‘the bathroom’, signalling for his partner to come out alongside him. The flashlight was still in the same place as it was when he was thirteen and pulled this trick.

“When you feed them at night, it makes it more likely for their calves to be born in the daytime. Less risky, that way.” Teddy explained through his steps, the shifter following along at his side.

“Besides,” He continued, “I needed a break, I think.”

Hosah wasn’t sure what he could add to the discussion, but he listened anyway, intently so. The day had been busy, that was for sure, between a long ceremony of what was described to him as ‘sin eating’, and generally being an accessory to a long overdue catch up between the family he wasn’t quite a part of, Hosah could definitely get behind a break from it all.

The pair got on with the task in a comfortable silence, taking a brief pause as Hosah discovered a new found fear of the large animals as they approached, much to Teddy’s delight. Any excuse to hold the shifter close was a good one; even if it were a ridiculous one. Taking a detour to wander around the farm he could navigate with his eyes closed seemed like a good way to pass the time, even if it were pitch black out by now.

Despite it not being visible to the eye, Teddy still knew where they were as they passed it. The slaughterhouse. He lifted the flashlight up to it, taking a moment to stare, to relive his childhood. It was clear what it was, even to the shifter, who was oblivious to such a lifestyle as Teddy’s own.

“Bad memories.” — Was all the taller of the two could mutter, “I don’t think I’ve been able to enjoy chicken since.”

That much was understandable. Hosah remembered the story, even if it was told to him a while ago by now.

“How long ago exactly was it- since you’ve been back?” A shift in topic was due, as they trailed back the way they came. They’d spent long enough wandering around in the dark.

“Twelve years, give or take.” Teddy took the lead, though not failing to thread his fingers between the shifter’s, just whilst he could.

Through the glimpses of the flashlight’s clarity, Hosah could still make out the general look of the farm house, even at such a distance away. It was scary how close it resembled the one he’d mustered up from his mind, for the painting he’d gifted to Teddy. That reminded him, actually, of the total lack of birthday wishes he’d received from his family that day. The realisation hurt his heart, enough for him to squeeze the larger hand that held his own.

Hosah’s eyes had grown used to the dark by now, the scrunching of Teddy’s face being apparent, even when it was partially turned away from his own. He didn’t want to let go, even as the patio’s light made their physical connection apparent. Neither of them did. So, they stayed that way, just until the door had opened wide enough for them to be visible by the entry way.

Everyone had seemed to go to bed, besides Yves- Teddy’s grandfather. He didn’t pay any mind to the pairs closeness, approaching them with a warmth that wasn’t found in any of Teddy’s other relatives. When Hosah pictures ‘grandfather’ in his mind, one like Yves wasn’t what it defaulted to. He wasn’t as fragile or decrepit as expected, in fact, he was the opposite, with the only true sign of his aging being the white colour of his hair, even his wrinkles being rather vague. He was younger than expected, that was for sure. Hosah knew how rude it was to guess peoples ages, but early seventies had to be the absolute oldest he’d pegged him for.

“Fed the cows?” He asked, still in an accented english, as Teddy’s father had insisted upon. Hosah considered that to be quite a rude gesture, also. He’d rather have his age guessed.

Teddy responded back, not in english, but the shifter pretended he understood what was being said either way, trying not to let how lost he was become apparent in his demeanour.

“Nonsense, I never get to use what I’ve learnt, so now you’re all here, I will use it as much as I can.” Yves gave a look to both of them. He had similar freckles and moles scattered around, just as Teddy had. “Hosah, photo album?”

The shifter was surprised to be addressed directly. The majority of Teddy’s relatives had done their best to ignore his presence. He was surprised his name was even known.

Hosah looked to his sides to make sure there wasn’t a third person at the doorway with the same name as him, before responding:

“Sure.” He tried not to let both his confusion and his enthusiasm be too evident.

Despite the taller of the two giving a sigh that could only be described as one that would be let out when preparing for further, they both followed along to the living room. It looked different now that it was empty, although the fire still crackled as if it was full of people it had to warm.

Maybe Teddy’s hobby was more of a hereditary thing, rather than one that stemmed from avoidance of his mother’s wishes regarding his future career path.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #size difference #g/t author #g/t writing #Puparia_tag #gt #Teddy grandpa I love you #Also i didn’t forget about Hosah’s therapist I promise

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lizard-shifter-noms · 8 months ago

Text

Still Subject to Change Chapter 8(NEW)

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Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

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A loud voice called out, one I recognized it as the guy with the bushy eyebrows.

“BEAST! STAY WHERE YOU ARE OR YOU WILL BE SHOT! WITH POISON!

AND YOU! ARTHUR SELWYN! CLIMB ONTO THE PLATFORM OR YOU WILL BE SHOT!

Oh I did NOT like this guy! If I had anything to throw at him I would! But I wasn't sure if the consequences would be worth it.

Also the only thing i could throw were my shoes as everything else had been stripped away from me and i did not want to lose my only pair of shoes, finding new ones would be impossible at my new size.

As for Arthur, he waited till the wooden platform was lowered to the ground completely before climbing on and looking back at me one last time, his eyes glazed over with such an intense fear like I had never seen before as he was lifted up again.

As soon as he got up to the level of the balcony at least six guards apprehended him once again and dragged him out of sight.

I heard a door slam shut and assumed that I was alone again, until I heard that awful nasally voice again.

“BEAST! WHY HAVE YOU NOT KILLED THE SON OF THE TRAITOR? I SPECIFICALLY ORDERED IT! I EXPECT THAT THE NEXT TIME HE IS THROWN IN YOU KILL HIM!”

Despite having only had a few interactions with this guy i absolutely Loathed him with all my being and hoped plague would fall upon him.

And why did he think I would do what he said? Just because he had trapped me in this ugly pit didn't mean I would suddenly heed his words.

“Why would I do that? He hasn't done anything to me personally, and besides you're the one keeping my friends captive! How do I know you won't just kill all of us as soon as Arthur is dead?”

The face of the man turned a bit redder in indignancy, but otherwise he didn't dare come closer.

Coward.

“BEAST! HOW ABOUT A DEAL? I WILL LET YOU AND THE OTHER TWO CAPTIVES LEAVE THE KINGDOM AS LONG AS YOU KILL ARTHUR! THAT IS A GOOD DEAL TRUST ME”

I did anything but trust this loud bitch, but maybe i could find a way to get all of us out? This guy expected me to kill Arthur, even threatened me with starvation.

But bushy brows over there didn't know about my strange anatomy, no one aside from Robin did, so maybe I could put Arthur inside and let them think I actually ate him.

This plan was so batshit insane that it might just work! The only problem was that Arthur didn't know either and would think I was going to kill him for real.

I wouldn't even be able to tell him in case someone listened in, Besides he himself had said that he was a terrible actor so i made up my mind, as much as i hated it.

Now I only had to get Bushy brows to actually keep his word.

He didn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed so I hoped it would be easy.

“Alright, fine! But you have to swear on every river of hell AND the God Amesimos that you will let us go! Or that a hundred years of plague shall fall upon yourself! Also you will not tell the others about it EVER!”

I slowly stood up while speaking and watched with glee as his face went pale, probably seeing for the first time how big I actually was.

“BEAST! YOUR DEMANDS WILL BE MET AS LONG AS YOU KILL ARTHUR, THAT I SWEAR BY EVERY RIVER FLOWING THROUGH HELL AND BY THE GLORIOUS GOD AMESIMOS ITSELF! AS LONG AS YOU NEVER RETURN AFTER YOU HAVE BEEN ESCORTED OUT OF COURSE!”

He probably thought he had a gotcha moment with his last addon, but why the fuck would i ever come back here? I knew I would be killed on sight then.

“So we have a deal then? Good you can send Arthur back i guess”

I felt absolutely sick at how his face lit up with a sick sort of glee as I had agreed, and I kind of hoped he would fall over the railing and break his neck.

I was almost relieved when his ugly mug vanished from my sight, but he returned a bit later with about twenty guards and a beaten up Arthur.

It seemed that during the short conversation I had with bushy brows they had had their ‘fun’ with him as I could make out a black eye and a split eyebrow.

At least it didn't seem like they had struck the wound in his side again, rather that they had concentrated on his face as was evident by his broken nose that bled a little onto his shirt staining it even more red.

I winced in sympathy and realized if I had not agreed to this insane plan they would just have beaten him to death.

They threw him roughly onto the platform that they had used to get him up and started to let him down again, at the last fourth however someone cut the rope and made him plummet the last of the way down with a yelp.

He didn't seem to have been further injured as far as i could tell but i still went over to check.

“I'm okay… i think, everything hurts anyway so no difference really”

He got slowly up to face me and in an attempt to seem less intimidating I sat on the ground with my legs crossed as he slowly got up.

“How's your nose? Doesn't look pleasant to be honest”

I tried to stall for some time as I didn't know if I should tell him I was going to ‘eat’ him or not, but the disgusting gaze of the man with the monobrow was still burning into my back.

“It's fine, just a bit of pain, did they want anything from you?”

He wiped the blood off as best as he could and I noticed that he was swaying a bit while standing, did they give him a concussion? I hoped not.

But at least he seemed to have enough brains to ask questions, and I decided to answer as honestly as I could.

“Well obviously they wanted me to kill you, they even offered me a deal”

At my words he went still and looked up at me with a pale face.

“What kind of deal?...”

Oh i was going to hate the next hour i was sure of it, but i would do my best to explain without giving away to the sick fuck on the balcony what was actually going on.

Sadly this meant I couldn't tell Arthur that he would be fine.

“They said that if i killed you they would let me AND the other two go, as long as we don't come back to Maringand”

It was as if someone had tugged a rug from underneath him as he sort of fell down to his knees in slow motion.

“Are you?- I mean, are you going to Take the deal? Because if so i won't fight you”

Of all the things I had thought would be the outcome for this situation it certainly wasn't that he'd just let it happen.

“I mean maybe? Why are you even okay with this? Why would you just let me do that?”

He looked dejectedly to the ground, seemingly trying to put it into words.

“Can you promise me to keep the other two safe? I always knew that one day they would get me, but the others don't deserve to suffer, can you get them back to Kamerasca for me?”

Wait, he'd just let me? As long as I promised to bring the other two back home safely?

I had planned on bringing them back there anyway, and if it meant this entire Bullshit would go over faster I'd gladly do that.

“I can do that, i'll even promise to bring them there myself even if i get shot at again”

He seemed a bit calmer at the prospect of his friends getting back home safely, but he seemed to still have something nagging at him.

“So- uh, how- how are you going to- you know?”

Ah this was the part i had dreaded, explaining that i was going to literally eat him alive was not going to go over well.

And how the fuck would i even start explaining this?

In the end I decided to just be blunt about it, no use beating around the bush after all.

“Im- im going to… eat you? I guess?”

He blanched at the words, gripping one of his upper arms so tight that I worried it would start to bleed, looking at it made me realize that there were some long healed teeth marks on his elbow.

Right Robin has said something about that.

He was sitting on the ground paler than I had ever seen him before, shaking and refusing to look at me.

Finally he spoke in a quiet and softly dejected voice.

"What do you plan to do? Chew me to bits? Or snap my neck first?"

“Neither, I intend to swallow you whole. Alive."

He winced as I told him what I was going to do.

“That's hardly any better, i really don't want to die by melting alive but i can’t stop you”

Oh yeah i forgot about that part, It would be the first thing anyone assumed when told such a thing.

I wracked my brain trying to come up with something to comfort him that wouldn’t give away that he'd be safe to the sick fuck on the balcony.

“Well, not really, you'd suffocate first before anything else happens so it would be more like just going to sleep i guess”

“How the fuck do you know that? Please don't tell me you have done something like this before!”

He was starting to panic again and I tried to find something in my Brain that could help explain it.

“Uhh, no I have not, remember that I've only been a Giant for like a week? And I've spent that time in a stupid ass forest where I got lost?

That aside, well, Biology i guess? You can't tell me you've never thrown up.

And I'm pretty sure humans suffocate after like ten minutes? Well at least people pass out by that point i've seen that outside of bars”

Alcohol did not do kind things to people, made them pretty pissy generally.

At least Arthur seemed to be a bit more at ease now after I told him why I knew such a thing.

Well as at ease as one can be when facing the prospect of being eaten alive at least.

He was however still shaking like a leaf and pale like a corpse, anticipating a death that wouldn't really come.

“We can't stall this forever can we? As much as i'd like to, i think if we take any longer they will just shoot both of us to death”

He shakily nodded, sighing.

“Alright just… get it over with i guess, i won't move”

I put my hand down in front of him so he could climb on.

He stared at it for a good few seconds seemingly not comprehending that he could just climb into my palm before he closed his eyes and stepped on.

Using my other hand to stabilize him I carefully raised him to be level with my face.

I noticed that he had shut his eyes as tight as possible and was breathing hard, trying not to panic and shaking like it was the middle of winter.

“It'll be okay i won't hurt you don't worry”

I tried to reassure him the best I could before I put him in my mouth.

Pushing a finger against him I shoved him to the back of my throat and I shifted my jaw a few times, sighing before I swallowed.

Throughout all of this Arthur had been remarkably calm and I didn't know if he had passed out or not, but a slight shift of his arms proved that he was still conscious.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arthur was shoved head first into Donovan's mouth, past the pearly white teeth and a finger pushed him even further in, dragging him along the weirdly bumpy texture of the tongue to the back of the throat.

He could feel as Donovan opened and closed his jaws a few times, Likely preparing to swallow again.

Arthur could feel the air push against him as Donovan let out a sigh, The air swirling past him out of the mouth he was in.

Then a loud 'GLRK' sounded, taking him down most of the way.

Arthur could feel what he assumed to be Donovan’s hand press in against the throat as he went down.

He could hear the giant’s heart beating loudly as he passed it and it took everything in him not to move.

One last swallow and Arthur flopped out into an open space leaving him the one option it is.

This is not a place he imagined he’d actually end up being in, at least in one piece.

Arthur stayed still, trying his hardest not to move until he curled around himself, shaking.

He could feel the fleshy walls shift around him as the Giant breathed in and out.

He wanted to scream and hit and kick at the slowly rippling walls, but he had said he wouldn't move, so he'd try his best to keep still.

If he could keep his friends safe in exchange for this nightmare he would stay here, even if it meant his own death. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Arthur had slipped away from my hands I could feel him enter my pouch.

I could tell he was shaking really badly and I wished to be able to do nothing more than comfort the trembling form and tell him he wasn't gonna die.

But I couldn't, not with an entire army watching, not to mention the bushy eyebrows guy was leaning over the railing again.

He had a sick sort of elation on his face at seeing me devour Arthur and I wanted nothing more than to punch his face in.

“WELL DONE BEAST! YOU SHALL BE RELEASED TOMORROW! UNTIL THEN YOU SHALL BE WATCHED! TO ENSURE THAT HE IS TRULY DEAD!”

God I hated this prick and wished him an untimely and absolutely stupid death.

Hearing him laugh in his ear paining nasally voice I Punched the wall next to me with a loud Boom that shook the balconies overhead, making him and a few soldiers yelp in alarm.

“Your Majesty! Are you alright?’”

Wait, that was the King??? Oh fuck i was lucky that he had agreed to let me and the other two go tomorrow.

But I hadn't expected the guy with the bushy eyebrows to be the king, he just didn't look like it, but that was probably because he wasn't wearing a crown the times i saw him.

Well aware that I was being watched from who knew where I sat back against the wall near where the sun was shining in.

Drawing my legs up I put my hands over my middle where the still trembling form of Arthur currently resided.

I had to applaud him though, he had been refraining from struggling or screaming this entire time.

He certainly was a brave man, I was pretty sure I would be screaming in such a situation.

Putting my hand directly over my pouch I could even feel him breathe, he was taking slow shaky breaths apparently trying not to cry.

I felt worse than ever and I couldn't even tell him he'd be fine! If word got out to the king I'd be shot dead immediately!

I tried my best to comfort him still, rubbing softly at him through the walls of my pouch where he lay.

I stopped after hearing him let out a quiet sob.

I hated this, hated it a lot actually and wanted time to go over faster so we could leave and finally tell him that he's not in danger.

He was still trembling and it made me feel even more worse the more this went on but I didn't dare speak.

Trying to think of something else to calm him down as attempting to rub at him hadn't helped in the least i started holding my own breath.

He got some form of air supply, so if I managed to pinch that off enough he would get drowsy from lack of oxygen and fall asleep.

Perhaps holding my breath as well would work?

It might be mean to do such a thing but being in a constant state of terror couldn't be good for his brain.

I was really glad I could hold my breath for quite some time, about five minutes if I recalled correctly, enough time for Arthur to start slumbering the time he was stuck there away.

And I was right, it only took him three minutes to stop shaking and fall asleep.

So now I was sitting in this stupid pit with only the sleeping form of Arthur to keep me company, which was honestly rather boring.

However I would not try to make smalltalk with one of the Guards that without a doubt would shoot me immediately if they were allowed to do so.

We were leaving as soon as possible anyways so it would be pretty pointless to do such a thing.

Sliding down against the wall slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping Form inside of me I put my back against the wall, lying on my side and tucking my legs up, curling protectively around my middle.

I could feel Arthur slide a little in my pouch and I went dead still, hoping to not wake him up after he had finally calmed down.

As nothing besides slight shifting happened I continued to lay there trying not to think about how having something alive in my pouch felt actually sort of, good?

I shoved such thoughts as far away as possible, this would NOT become a common occurrence, After all, as soon as I got those idiots back to Kamerasca I would dip anyway.

I still couldn't figure out why the thought about them going back without me stung, but I ignored it for now.

Laying like this and watching the sunbeam move over the wall I started holding my breath everytime i thought that Arthur was about to wake up.

Some hours later the light from outside vanished completely leaving me in darkness and with nothing better to do fell asleep myself hoping that Arthur wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night.

I was not woken until the next morning when I heard doors being opened with a bang from one of the balconies startling me enough to sit up abruptly.

Fearing that it might have woken Arthur, I held my breath again as I heard the telltale clack clack of expensive shoes on stone walking to the railing.

Ah, it seems the king has arrived again.

I sincerely hoped that he’d keep his word and let me and the other two free today, but he had sworn to God and all rivers of hell so it should be fine.

I hoped at least.

I was proven right when I heard his Nasally and way too loud voice called down to me.

“BEAST! SINCE THE BOY IS NOW DEAD YOU AND THE OTHER TWO PRISONERS WILL BE ESCORTED OUT OF MARINGAND TODAY! AND REMEMBER TO NEVER RETURN TO MY KINGDOM!”

As if I ever wanted to come back to this hellhole but saying that out loud might not be a good idea.

“Sure, i'm not keen on getting stuck into this pit again, so we will leave for good i can assure you that”

Standing up slowly to make sure Arthur stayed asleep, I stood in the middle of the room as the king called down again.

“BEAST! IF YOU ARE TO STRAY TOO FAR OR ATTACK A CITIZEN YOU WILL BE SHOT! WE HAVE PLANNED A ROUTE OUT OF OUR KINGDOM AND WE WILL LEAD YOU THERE! SO DO NOT WANDER OFF OR YOU WILL BE SHOT!”

Man this guy loved to threaten me with getting shot, and I kinda wished I could shoot him instead.

Ignoring the urge to punch the wall again I heard another set of doors being opened.

Turning around I saw that they were pushing the only door that I could fit through slowly open.

Peering into the dark I saw at least forty guards, all fitted with crossbows in addition to their normal getup standing in front of a slope that seemed to have been carved out of the surrounding stone.

Slowly going up the tunnel surrounded by armed Guards I saw another door that was also being opened the moment we came near it.

Arthur was still unconscious, and currently bunched up like in a hammock at the bottom of my pouch.

I held my breath again to make sure Arthur stayed asleep but made extra sure to not completely suffocate him, just keep the air low enough that he wouldn't wake up.

Watching the Doors swing open I saw both Robin and Rikaad on the other side, both surrounded by Guards like me.

Robin's face lit up at the sight of me and Rikaad looked confusedly behind me and around as if searching for someone, and I knew exactly who he was looking for but I couldn't tell him that Arthur was okay and with me, Within me right now.

And I prayed to Amesimos that he would never find out, he was an enigma as it was and I couldn't predict what he would do if he ever did find out.

It might be okay, or he could just murder me for doing such a thing I couldn't tell with that guy.

I knew as long as I didn't do anything bad he was alright but I didn't know how he would react to something like this.

Robin seemed to have catched up on the fact that Arthur was still missing and was looking around confusedly.

He even tried to get closer to me but was yanked back by a Guard and put next to Rikaad who looked at the offending man with the iciest look i had ever seen him have, and even the guard backed off a bit as Rikaad stood provocatively next to Robin while Squaring up in front of the smaller Guard.

He really was a tall human, if i was still normal sized i’d definitely be scared of him.

I was also a bit scared of him as a Giant to be honest, Those eyes still unnerved me greatly.

As I was being led out of the tower I noticed it was near the edge of the forest next to some houses, and that Robin was right about me being tall like a house, I could see onto the roofs pretty well.

At the command of some higher ranking Guard we were all collectively herded along the line of buildings towards the forest.

If the streets weren't completely empty it would feel like I was being paraded through town, but it looked like they had ‘evacuated’ all citizens for this.

One less thing to worry about I hoped.

They really weren't fast either and I had to slowly drag my feet across the ground to not step out of the line they made.

I really tried to steer closer to Robin and Rikaad but the Guards always switched positions with them so I couldn't get near, and every time I did try they would aim their crossbows at me.

Feeling Arthur move a bit I held my breath again, if he woke up now and made any noise that could be heard on the outside we'd all be dead men.

I felt really bad about doing this to him, but I didn't really have any other options, and besides it was to save his hide as much as mine.

I just hoped he would forgive me for this one day, but it was unlikely.

It was whatever, they would go back home to Kamerasca and I would have to wander the woods as just another monster if I didn't find out how to deal with this curse.

Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye I looked onto a rooftop to see a barefooted boy in tattered clothing standing there, He seemed to be not older than eleven or twelve, and surprisingly had pointed ears just like me.

Another Bastard, I looked at him in sympathy and silently wished him luck.

I knew how hard street life could be as an unwanted halfbreed.

As he saw that I was looking at him he made the thumbs up gesture while pointing to his ears and I gave the tiniest nod back.

He climbed over the roofs out of sight and I doubted that I would ever see this boy again.

But it was nice to know I wasn't the only one.

I noticed that the direction we were going in was towards the mountain and I guessed that they would let us go at roughly the same spot they found us.

Holding my breath again as I felt Arthur move I tried to get closer to Robin and Rikaad once more but stopped when some of the Guards raised their crossbows at me.

There was no doubt in my mind that the tips were coated in poison and I was not keen on getting shot, again.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

#sstc #lizards writing #vore story #giant/tiny #soft vore #extreme cuddling #sfw vore #v0re #g/t vore #g/t story #Barmea #Maringand #fearplay vore #nsx vore

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ajokeformur-ray · 8 months ago

Note

with the sequel coming out, tell me again how you and arthur first fell in love! how did you meet! i wanna know your story!

I forgot the original story I had for us five years ago (I feel like it was that I saw Carnival dancing in the street, fell head over heels for this smiley clown, and approached him on a break to tell him I loved his dancing, but I could be wrong), so I have a new one which fits better the person I am now.🥺🙏 This is the SWEETEST ask and has me melting, I'm struggling so badly right now trying to balance everything going on and this ask is the perfect thing to give me five minutes to myself 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy the story!!

Arthur and I had a meet cute.

During the bus scene, we noticed that the lady never handed Arthur his card back even though she would have seen the text asking for the card to be returned (😡). So I can only assume she threw it on the floor or left it on the seat, I highly doubt she would have snatched the card and then taken it with her.

I was sat in the row directly behind Arthur so I saw and heard everything. His exchange with the child, the woman being rude (she was probably overworked, stressed and tired but there's no need to be rude to someone, especially if they've gone out of their way to try to cheer your baby up🥺), the sharp flick of laminated card as it hit the dirty bus floor.

I stared at that white card poking out from underneath her chair for the rest of the bus ride home, focusing on it to make sure I didn't forget to pick it up. I wanted to see what it said, and if it was indeed the man's in front of me then I'd return it to him.

(In real life I have run after people, total strangers, to give them back wallets, keys etc if they accidentally lose them on the bus, even if it isn't my stop; I can easily walk the rest of the way, that person needs their possession back way more.)

So when the bus stops and the man gets off, I remembered that Helm's Pharmacy carries my specific hair oil and I'm down to a third of a bottle so I need some more (my hair uses a lot of oil as it's a part of my daily routine and I will lose my shit if I don't have enough for the day's routine). I get up too, bending down to grab the small card on the way out.

It's nothing I haven't heard before as a psychology and counselling honours degree student, but the "please return this card" catches my attention and I'm so focused on reading the card that I almost walk right into Arthur's back as he stops to open the pharmacy door. I don't even remember getting off the bus; my body knows every part of my day because I live the same one over and over again without reprieve (but many complaints).

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry, I was miles away." I am stammering, verbally tripping over myself as the man, his shoulders hunched up to his neck like he's expecting an attack, turns around. "I'm so sorry, really, it's just I realised you never got this card returned and I wanted to give it to you in case you need it, it looks well used and I'm so sorry I almost -"

My anxious rambling is cut off by a quiet high pitched giggle. Like recognises like as his ocean greens meet my hazel with green and gold flecks, and I fall instantly in love with the man whose name I don't know yet.

He waves a hand dismissively, and I hold his card out.

"Here, I'm so sorry again."

Arthur takes the card from me and stuffs into haphazardly into his pocket. I notice the colour of his jacket, his gorgeous eyes, those romantic dark curls, the nicotine stains on his fingers, the way he's wincing under the bright artificial lights of the pharmacy, and as I'm looking at Arthur, he's looking at me. I don't know what he's noticing about me, I've just finished work so I look an awful mess. Black bags under my eyes from weeks of sleep deprivation, messy hair falling out of its braid. A girl crumbling under the weight of the world and hoping she can keep it together long enough that no one will notice until she can get back to her bedroom and shatter. Only to pick herself up in the morning and do it all over again.

It's so similar to Arthur's mantra of step step step, but I don't know that, not yet.

"Th-thank you," Arthur stammers, sweeping a hand through his curls. I haven't realised we're both moving through the aisles to get what we need, and probably have been since I ran into him. I see my expensive hair oil and swipe two bottles, wincing at the price but willing to pay it for my favourite body part. I joke that it makes up for the rest of me... People always laugh but no one's realised yet that I'm being serious when I say it. In time, Arthur will, and he'll scold me for it. And I'll only smile, because he sees me and loves me all the same.

"You're welcome." I remember my manners and rush to introduce myself. "I'm sorry again to run into you, I'm Erika."

"Erika." Arthur repeats my name as he queues up for the prescription counter; I stand beside him. "My name's Arthur. Arthur Fleck."

And something inside me sighs in relief and whispers deep in the back of my mind, "oh, there you are."

#erileck #self-shipping #IM GONNA CRY OMGOMFOMGOMG HOLY SHIT ARTHURRRR🥺🥺🥺#And yes im actually this anxious and twitchy irl and these are my thought processes #im a mess

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misty-moth · 1 year ago

Text

Here is the second chapter of my Moulin Rouge AU for Charles-Henri ✯⸜(*❛‿❛)⸝✯

Here is Chapter 1, and Chapter 3

divider (under the cut): saradika

Charles Henri x reader, Moulin Rouge AU, ~2.8k words

Chapter 2

The following few days held nothing out of the ordinary for you. You’d found your daily routine ready to take you back, and so you’d acquiesced your return to the mundane.

Those swirling feelings had not released you though. As you went through your daily chores, you’d find yourself in a trance. If the residents noticed, they didn’t seem too keen on pulling you back to reality. Or… maybe they tried and you were that distracted… hmm…

Your auto-pilot had found its destination as you plopped down at the desk in your room. You’d asked the owner of this mansion for stationary, which he’d gladly provided.

As you glanced down, you scanned through the small notes you’d jotted down. Writing on the meer spectacle of that night seemed like the obvious choice. There was the architecture, the performances, the sensational atmosphere…

“But all I can think about is him…” your soft murmur only reached your ears, but it came out much more solemn than you’d expected.

What was he doing now? Was he thinking of you too?

Freedom, beauty, truth, and love… they were beautiful concepts, of course. You’d always loved reading about them, but hadn’t before felt the impulse to write about them yourself, but… the words were unfolding in your mind freely, haphazardly, almost… poetically?

A startled laugh escaped you as you realized how cheesy those words were! But as soon as you’d given yourself permission, your hand began moving. The poetic words you’d been thinking formed into a song, one you didn’t intend to share with anyone.

Or more accurately, you didn’t want to share with more than one specific person.

While you hadn’t yet returned to the Moulin Rouge since that night, you’d known undoubtedly that you would. Charles-Henri had promised that you wouldn’t need to pay to see him again, which was a saving grace as you’d become essentially penniless writer in this time period. The owner of the mansion had more than sufficient funds, but you’d already felt you’d been intruding as is. The aspect of asking him for money to spend at a brothel was… unappealing…

Charles had accepted your smile as a payment, and seemed fully satisfied with it. Maybe this next time, these words could be his payment?

“My gift is my song… and this one’s for you.”

You felt a slight blush, but an even stronger smile as you’d finally put your words onto paper.

This form of writing was so new to you, but surprisingly exciting. He had unknowingly become your muse, and it made you giddy when you imagined telling him. These new feelings were liberating.

~~~

A week had passed since you had met Charles, and you found yourself lingering in the hallway containing your escort’s room. He was still bustling to get ready past the door, and he chuckled when he joined you in the hallway.

“My, my, a bit eager are we?” You nodded sheepishly, and his teasing grin settled into a soft smile. “Then let’s go, dove.”

The carriage was taking far longer than you’d like, and you found your leg bouncing in antsy anticipation.

“I must admit, I’m a bit proud… and a bit envious,” Arthur said, breaking the silence. Your eyes left the window to find his crooked smile. “I’m proud that I could bring you out of the mansion. You’d looked so glum when you couldn’t return to your time, and being able to light a spark in you warms my spirits, too.” He sighed. “If only I had been the one to grow that spark into a twin flame.”

You felt your cheeks flush a bit, but it made sense that he’d noticed. You had been undoubtedly obvious that week.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Of course, luv.” He sighed before brightening again, his voice chipper if not teasing. “So, am I to assume that my escort mission ends once you meet your favorite performer?”

“That’s a valid assumption.”

“I figured. If things get dodgy, find me, yea? I’ll keep an out, and hopefully actually find you this time,” his eyes narrowed playfully.

The carriage finally arrived in the plaza, and you entered the building brazenly, a stark contrast to your last visit.

Leaving the cold wind for the heated room left you pausing; how exactly were you planning on finding him? The blur somehow seemed less intense, but it was still a blur nonetheless.

Your eyebrows knitted together, still standing near the entrance, when you felt a hand grab yours. That hand was tugged firmly, spinning you 180° before two hands gently clamped on either side of your face. You gasped, trying to catch up, when you felt lips pressing against your forehead.

“You’re back! You’re really here!” Charles-Henri was just as bouncy as you’d felt in the carriage.

“Charles!” You beamed up at him. “Thank god you found me, I was worried as to how I could pull off finding you.”

His hands lowered to grab yours. “I’d like to say it was great serendipity, but I’ve been hanging around the entrance every night this week.” His eyes crinkled with his smile.

You blinked up at him. He… had been thinking of you too. Suddenly, you remembered the folded piece of paper containing his written gift, and you felt a little pang of nervousness.

He mistook that change of expression, and he followed up with a chuckle. “I’m a bit forward, but I swear I mean well. I was just excited to see you again.”

“N-no, I’ve been excited to see you too!” You found yourself shouting a bit, but he smiled at your enthusiasm. His fingers easily twined into the same hand he’d claimed last time, and you glanced back toward Arthur before Charles pulled you out of your reverie.

“Dance with me!” Charles brought the two of you onto the floor, and not a moment later you felt him leading you into the familiar movements. You giggled at this feeling of freedom, and he easily joined in.

The music had you twirling, humming cheerfully, and bravely attempting the dances you saw around you. When one song ended, it melted effortlessly into the next. All of the songs were upbeat, which made sense given the location, but the song that had just started was noticeably slower.

Charles brought you against his chest, his heat joining yours. Your claimed hand raised a bit as his other gripped at your waist. His eyes smoldered, which may have intimidated you had you not felt the same passion radiating through yours. Your bodies were far closer to each other than they had ever been, leaving no space. The hand on your waist traveled to your lower back, locking you into his embrace.

The mood had gotten much more intimate, and you were eager to melt into the moment. Much like your hands, your bodies meshed together as the dance continued. Your free hand was resting on his chest, and you felt his pulse thrumming as quickly as your own. You never would have imagined being bold enough to tango in your own time, yet here you were with one hell of a dance partner.

His hands were a bit friskier than usual, but it seemed the entire dance floor was busy with their own moments. As the song reached a conclusion, you locked eyes again as he lightly placed his fingertips to your cheek. His body jutted forward as a dancer behind him bumped into him, effectively jolting us from the intensity.

He shook his head infinitesimally as if trying to return to reality.

He leaned toward your ear. “I definitely need some fresh air,” he grinned before towing you to the side exit.

The chilled autumn air didn’t soothe your still hammering pulse. You noticed he wasn’t looking at you like he usually did. He didn’t seem upset at least, just maybe perplexed?

“Charles?” he jumped a bit, eyes wide as they met yours.

“Oh! Ahaha, sorry, I think I just got a little dizzy there.” He shook his head again. “I think I’m just so glad that you’re here again, it’s messing with my head.”

Your pocket felt heavy as the two of you stopped around the same spot as the last visit.

“Actually Charles,” your cheeks warmed, but you held onto your courage with both hands. “I managed to write since last time, at least a little.”

“That’s wonderful!” He beamed. “What sort of story are you writing?”

“Um…” your eyes averted, now clutching onto the remaining fragments of courage. “It’s actually a song, I think, as sort of a gift for your time. I was hoping you’d be the first to read it,” you shrugged. The only one to read it, preferably.

You saw his frame stiffen, and you peaked up to see his face even more dazed than a few minutes ago.

You let him pause for as long as you could handle. “Ch-charles? It’s okay if you don’t—“

“No!” He gasped out.” “Non, I want it! Please!”

Both of your faces held a shade of pink as you reached into your pocket, retrieving the paper filled with your vulnerability. You placed it into his hand.

He stared down at it, making no movement to unfold it. “You said it was a song?”

Ohhh no.

“Well, it almost reads like a song, but really it’s like a poem, so—“ a finger touched your lips.

“Please?” His gaze pierced into you, his expression achieving the lonliest puppy face. “It’s only us within earshot, and hearing it through your voice…” his finger on your lip brushed softly.

You tentatively took the paper back, concentrating on it rather than the man it was written for. “I can… read it. I don’t think my nerves would allow me to sing it even if I wanted to.”

Charles fervently nodded before hunkering down on the side of the building, patting the spot next to him.

You cleared your throat as you joined him, eyes glued to the paper as if you hadn’t memorized it.

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide,” your blush never left but his thumb brushed your hand as encouragement through the song.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words,” your voice had become ever so slightly melodic as you lost yourself in the words. “How wonderful life is… while you’re in the world.”

Your song concluded, you heard him murmur, “that was very beautiful.” You began putting the paper away, only to feel your chin tilted up and lips placed firmly against yours.

It wasn’t a very long kiss, but your heart was aflame. He pulled back, gracing you with unbridled bliss. “Can I keep the written version?” You nodded, handing it back to him.

A shadow cast across the two of you. “Charles.”

You glanced up to see a rather tall man wearing glasses, arms folded across his chest. Charles-Henri shot up, bringing you along with him.

“Hello, Docteur!” Charles chuckled before glancing at you. “This here is my manager, Monsieur Johann Faust!”

“Charles,” Faust repeated before sighing. “This doesn’t appear to be the dance floor you’re assigned to.”

Charles floundered a bit, “ah, well you see— Voivode!” he sounded gleeful at the realization. “He asked me to introduce her to him if she visited again, so I was just about to ask her about it.”

Faust quirked up an eyebrow, scanning Charles before turning to you. “Very well. The owner of this establishment is Monsieur Vlad. I vaguely recall him mentioning a woman he’d only seen from a distance, so I have to assume it was you. I’m sure he’s available to meet now. Come along.” He began walking away as soon as he finished speaking, making any possible dispute difficult.

Charles briskly followed, and you felt his hand loosen after a moment before letting it go completely.

You clenched your hand at the lost heat, but he wouldn’t meet your curious gaze.

The three of you entered a side door with a staircase, the only sounds were the echoed footsteps in the small stairwell. You soon reached a door where Faust knocked twice.

“Come in,” you heard a man’s soft voice from inside the room as the door opened. Faust motioned for you to enter as you took in the gorgeous room. It looked as if every furnishing was an immaculately kept antique, from the red velvet sofa to the rich mahogany desk. Sitting behind that desk was an even more beautiful man with silver hair and strikingly red eyes that were locked onto yours.

“You’ve returned,” his smile was radiant as he stood up to greet you. “My name is Vlad.” He pulled up the hand that had long lost Charles’ warmth, placing a kiss. “I’ve been wanting to meet with you since I first saw you.”

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, too,” you said meekly, curious as to just when the first time he saw you was.

“Thank you for bringing her, Charles. You may go now,” Vlad’s dismissal left little to argue with, but Charles certainly sounded like he was about to.

“Let’s go, Charles,” Faust grabbed his feisty coworker by the collar as he walked him back through the door.

You watched the door close behind them as Vlad walked over to the sofa and gestured to you to join. You awkwardly sat on the other end, but he simply smiled.

“It truly is wonderful to officially meet you. I saw you outside about a week ago, granted from a distance. It’s a little bit funny… you seem so familiar somehow.” He looked at you with puzzlement pulling his eyebrows. “Like we were fated to meet. I must admit, I’m quite taken with that feeling.”

Unsure how to respond to such a statement, you stared blankly at his handsome face. He really was lovely to look at, his voice as velvety as the seat around you. He allowed you your space, but he watched you deeply with a sort of awe.

“I-I’m actually not from here,” you stammered before taking a steadying breath. “So I don’t think we’ve met before.”

His smile became bemused. “Hmm… then I hope we can make this our first fateful encounter. I’d like far more chances to speak with you in the future.”

It wasn’t so much that he was unpleasant or pushy; if anything, he was far more restrained than Charles had been…

Charles.

It’s where your mind had been for a week, and this strange conversation had been no different. It felt so strange knowing that he was just outside the building by now. You wished you could see him one last time tonight.

“Actually, Monsieur Vlad—“

“Just Vlad, if you would.”

“Vlad… I’m actually here tonight with an escort from home, and I don’t wish to worry him by staying out too long.” It was technically the truth, which helped your voice stay strong.

Vlad’s expression saddened, and he sighed softly. “Can I see you again soon? You can come see me any time you decide to visit the Moulin Rouge.”

You managed to nod politely, though not quite commiting to a time for a next meeting.

“Let me lead you back.”

The two of you stepped back out into the plaza, and you quickly scanned for Charles to no avail. “I’ll be able to find him from here. It was an honor meeting you.”

He smirked at your formality, “Until next time, ma douce.” He pressed a final kiss to your hand before you nearly scurried away.

It really had gotten late, so you walked back to the path you and Arthur had taken the last time you’d left. Thankfully, it seemed he had the same idea as you approached each other.

“Hmm,” Arthur hummed. “You don’t look very chuffed given your excitement earlier.”

You laughed, loosening your shoulders. “It’s nothing. Actually, I just met the owner. He was kind, but I guess I was more nervous around him than I thought.”

Arthur tilted his head, but decided not to press the matter. “Are you ready to head home?”

You knew that trying to find Charles in the crowd after Faust had already chastised him would be challenging, so you decided not to fight that battle today.

Arthur led the way back toward the street to herald a carriage. As you climbed in and sat down, you glanced one last time toward the entrance where you saw the pale-pink hair of your favorite performer. You thought his face looked troubled for a moment, but he broke into a smile as he waved goodbye. You placed your hand against the small window as Arthur sat across from you. Arthur sighed wistfully as the carriage began to move.

Writing Masterlist

#ikevamp charles #ikemen vampire #ikemen arthur #ikemen vlad #ikemen faust #ikemen charles #ikevamp #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp arthur #moth’s writing

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saintsir4n · 1 year ago

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WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ANXIETY AND VIOLENCE

1914

LEAVING the hospital, Eden adjusted her uniform and gathered the rest of her things.

She muttered a goodbye and nodded to the other nurses around her, who returned the gesture.

Celestine came up to her and discreetly squeezed her hands, "See ya at home love."

All Eden could do was muster up a smile, further worrying her mother.

Pushing past the doors, Eden wasn't surprised when she met with a familiar face.

Polly Gray.

Not saying a word, she took the younger woman's arm in hers and guided her towards the Watery Lane. Eden remained unaffected as they walked side by side, arms clinging together and heels smacking against the cobblestones.

When people saw Polly, they briskly moved out of the way, clearing a path allowing them to walk by without any trouble.

Eden could feel the Shelby Matriarch studying her, the bags under her tired eyes, the lack of colour on her face and the absence of her signature red lipstick.

Although it wasn't allowed at work, she knew the Dawkins woman would be quick to apply it as soon as she stepped out of the doors.

"Where's that smile of yours? People will think I'm holdin' you hostage."

"And if they did, they wouldn't say a word, would they?" Eden's hoarse voice caught Polly off guard.

The walk from the hospital wouldn't take long but Polly had questions.

"What happened to ya voice?"

"I lost it," Eden answered keeping her gaze to the cobbles.

Polly wasn't satisfied, "How?"

"Couldn't find it this morning," or in other words, she spent her nights crying.

"Enough with that cheek," Polly's stern voice caused Eden to sigh, "Tell Aunt Polly what's wrong."

Giving in, Eden stated, "Your nephew for starters."

"Gonna have to be more specific, can't be poor Finn who's got your voice sounding like Arthur's," Polly quipped, then received a sarcastic smile.

"Why, thank you."

"I've got just the remedy for the attitude and ya soar throat and no need to worry, no one's in."

Eden felt slightly better after hearing that, "That's a first."

"Oh, don't I know it."

—

"You know how exhausting it is to be Eden Dawkins?"

Polly stared at the Dawkins nurse, who was sitting on the couch, feeling nothing but empathy as she put down a cup full of honey and lemon for her to consume.

"How 'bout you tell me then, you've been silent since we've walked in," Polly retorted, leaning back in her chair with her cup of tea which had some whiskey in it. "It's worrying y'know? You're always talkin'. If it's not 'bout your books that you have your head stuck in, it's to do with your work."

"Not just those two," she murmured, before taking a sip of the drink, that soothed her throat.

"Oh right, can't forget that chocolate cake you're always obsessing over." Polly has heard countless times about how much the chocolate cake from the market down in Digbeth was one of her favourite things in the world.

Eden suppressed her smile, "It's nice cake."

"Believe me, I know," Polly said against her cup.

"You always know."

Raising a brow, Polly asked, "Tommy tell you that?"

"John did, Finn too," Eden replied, dismissing Tommy's name.

"My bloody nephews, but they're right, 'cause Polly Gray always finds out. Now why have you got the size of the Garrison under ya eyes?"

Eden let out a deep sigh, "You know why."

"Of course I know, I want to hear it from you," Polly noted each time the nurse shifted in on the couch.

She looked anxious or was it irritant?

"Thomas," Eden begrudgingly answered.

Polly hummed, "Stirrin' up trouble is what he does."

"I know."

Pursing her lips, Polly added, "And you knew that before you started messin' with 'im."

A bitter laugh escaped Eden, "So it's my fault?"

"Never said that so don't go puttin' words in my mouth," Polly warned, then took another sip of her tea.

"Then what you tryna say? I should expect 'im to make me cry, batter my friends if they get too close, make a scene?" Eden pressed, tilting her head.

"Yes."

"Wow."

Polly watched Eden subdue her simmering her rage by drinking, giving her time to explain.

"Because he's a man. Men kick, scream and shoot and as a woman, we clean up their messes, 'cause if we didn't the world would fuckin' burn."

Placing her drink down, Eden asked, "And what if I want that?"

Polly was caught off guard by her question, "Then you're just like Tommy."

Eden couldn't scoff quicker, "I'm nothin' like 'im."

"Actin' on emotions, waving weapons 'bout like it's a bloody flag and kickin' and screamin' like you're hairs on fire?" Polly listed, smiling when Eden tensed up, "Yes, I heard all 'bout the incident, I was there when the truce was decided," Polly tried to not sound too amused, "few people have pulled a weapon on my nephew, think you're the only one he was afraid of when it happened."

"He's not afraid of me," Eden didn't think that was possible, she wasn't much to be scared of.

"Oh he is, come on Eden use that big brain of yours, he's scared, not for the reasons you think."

Disregarding her statement, Eden decided to ask, "Do you think women have to clean up after men?"

"We do because we have something they don't," Polly informed, putting her cup to the side

"Balls?"

Polly chuckled, "The ability to keep going."

Eden averted her gaze, "Sometimes I don't think I do."

"You do," Polly spoke with a hint of admiration.

"How do you do it?" Eden turned back to her,

There were days she just wanted everything to stop and she was barely an adult. Wondering how she would continue was a question she asked herself every time she got out of bed.

"Five children wouldn't 'ave been fed, cleaned and clothed if I didn't," Polly said sternly, then looked to the floor as a flood of memories breached her mind.

Memories of children, her kids, running up and down the lane along with her wild nephews and little niece, Arthur tossing little Michael out of the window and John putting him into a shoe box and kicking him up the lane, all while Tommy sat and chatted with little Anna. A smile wanted to form on her face but she wouldn't let it, because that's all that it was, memories, the past, even though she wanted it so desperately to be present.

Searching her dreams every night she prayed she would never find her children.

And if she did, she doubted if she could go on.

Straightening up her back, Polly looked at Eden.

"Before you two fell out –"

"-- Broke up –" Eden's correction fell on deaf ears.

"-- did Thomas say things when he slept?" Polly wondered, confusing the nurse.

"We haven't been together for a minute Polly," Eden answered, starting to think why she allowed the Shelby matriarch to bring her here, she should've gone home, considering it was almost five in the afternoon and she'd been working for nine hours.

Christ.

"Answer the question," Polly demanded in a light tone.

"I don't remember," Eden wanted to groan at the pointed look she received, "Fine he used to mutter and twitch in his sleep whenever he dreamt."

Polly's eyes grew wider, "Did he say what these dreams were about?"

"Polly..." Eden sighed, knowing that she would've given up, God these Shelbys are relentless, "he never said anything, but I heard him mutter stuff."

"What stuff?" Polly was now leaning forward, gesturing for her to go on.

Rubbing her forehead, Eden tried to remember, "Rokker I think, same three words, karo I think... fee or fi and nova?"

"Kařo, fi, nivă?" Polly corrected her with perfect pronunciation.

"I think so. Why?"

"Tommy and his dreams." Glee danced in Polly's eyes and Eden didn't understand why.

"I suppose."

"Remind me to read your tea leaves next time you're round," Polly didn't leave any room for argument.

Eden slowly nodded, "Okay."

Polly thought back to the images she saw whenever she stared at her second oldest nephew, A little girl with russet skin and sapphire eyes running through the fields trying to get to a large horse with a woman chasing her, both were happy and both were smiling.

It was similar to when Marta got with John, only with John she imagined a whole vardo full of children.

Kařo, fi, nivă. Horse, girl, field.

Polly was delighted, so very delighted, but the sombre look on Eden's face made her shake the thoughts... For now.

She wanted to get down to the issues at hand, wanting all the chaos to be put to bed.

"He doesn't trust me," When Eden spoke, emotions coated her voice.

Clanging her nails around the arm of her chair, Polly spoke softly, "He sees things like objects, if it's not his, he wants it and when he gets it, he tends to not let it go."

"Great so I'm a fuckin' toy to 'im," Eden didn't mean to snap.

"Watch that tone with me," Polly warned, seeing the regret in the younger woman's eyes, "and to answer your question, you have to show 'im why you're not a toy."

"If I forgive 'im," Eden pointed out and quickly shook her head at the look she got.

"Eden."

"Please don't say it," Eden whispered, looking down at her hands, trying not to pinch the skin around her fingers.

"I'm tellin' you this 'cause I know our Tommy, he has this essence... this potential that will bring something to this family, my family, the family I know you'll be part of someday. So you're gonna forgive 'im, Eden Dawkins."

Her shoulders slumped as she glanced up at the older woman, "Polly... what he did to my best friend --"

"I know what he did, forgivin' him don't mean forgettin', believe you me there's a huge fuckin' difference."

Eden sighed, recalling that Greta said the same thing to her not long ago, but she wondered, if she ever did something to hurt Tommy, would he forgive her?

"But--" she was cut off by the sound of someone storming into the house.

Tommy was quick to lean against the frame of the front room door, eyes zeroing the brown-skinned woman who looked away and sighed. He attempted to not let his eyes wander over her uniform, but it was so hard.

Polly sat back, feeling the tension rise in the room, Eden's hurt demeanour immediately morphed into crabby.

"Your mum said you were here," Tommy finally spoke, shooting a look at his fascinated aunt.

Eden's head snapped toward him, "And how would my mum know that?"

Tommy's eyes softened at her sore, just as he was about to ask what happened to it, his aunt interrupted.

"I told her, caught Celestine on her lunch break, " Polly informed, unaffected by the scowl on Eden's face.

"Right."

Tommy couldn't help but snicker at his ex-girlfriend.

"What's so funny?" Eden grew aggravated, by his presence, his eyes, the way he looked good leaning against the door frame.

"You can come to mine, but I get kicked out if I step a foot in yours?"

Eden was quick to nod, "Pretty much, yeah."

Tommy stepped into the room and asked, "What happened to ya voice?"

Eden made a face, "None of your business."

"It is my business, you're my business," he argued, eying her.

Polly scoffed at the pair, believing they thrived off arguing. Eden challenged Tommy in ways she hadn't seen before, it was annoyingly entertaining to watch.

Eden rubbed her temples, ignoring when he checked the cup she was drinking, instead, she faced Polly once more.

"I haven't got the energy to argue with 'im," she gritted out, disregarding the mirth swimming in his eyes.

"And you think I do?" Polly retorted.

"You've been doing it for twenty-two years."

"And you'll be doing it for twenty-two more."

It was Eden's turn to scoff, "Not bloody likely."

Polly snorted at the glare Tommy sent her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sounding irritable.

She gesticulated, "We're not together anymore."

"Y'sure about that?" Polly mused, eyes flickering between the bickering pair.

"I'm sure," Eden said just as Tommy countered, "She's not sure."

"Pol," Tommy sent his aunt a pleading look, for her to leave the room, which she didn't take note of, so instead he turned back to Eden in defeat, "Has Changretta talked to you yet?"

"And why would you care?" Eden used her anger as a facade.

Enzo hadn't responded to her letters she ended up writing as Dorris informed her that he didn't want to see her just yet.

"You said he hadn't before," Tommy continued, unaffected by her attitude, just curious if they were in contact. Judging from her appearance, she hadn't been getting any sleep and he knew he was one of the reasons for that.

Folding her arms, she glared up at him, "And I bet you're loving that."

"Fuck sakes Eden."

"What, you are, you hate whenever I was with 'im, even though were just friends."

"Bet he hated that," Tommy's tone lowered, much to the women's annoyance.

"Blind as a bat, you are Thomas," Polly spoke, fully amused.

Tommy ran his hands throw his hair, "I don't need it from you, for the tenth day in a row Pol."

"Just friends or at least were," Eden sounded very hurt.

"Wouldn't be any more than that, the boy isn't interested in little Eden over here, or any other girls if you must know."

Polly's words stunned the ex-couple.

"Polly!" Eden screeched, jumping out of her seat.

"What?" she recalled the day she saw Enzo heatedly staring at some boy in the market she visited one day.

"You can't just go 'round saying that," Eden was too busy stressing out, she didn't account for Tommy who continued reeling at his aunt's statement.

"Tommy hasn't got an issue with someone's sexual orientation do ya? Or I haven't rasied you right," Polly noticed how confused and surprised his nephew seemed.

Tommy's eyes flickered between the two women, knowing what was said was true, which only meant that all the times he suspected the was something going on between Enzo and Eden, or that Enzo wanted Eden, all the touches, hugs, cheek kisses... they were platonic, they were just friends.

And he assaulted Lorenzo Changretta for no reason, none at all.

"It's not right, to just say somethin' like that Polly, he wouldn't want that," Eden eventually settled back into her seat, fiddling with her hands as Polly rose from her chair.

"Now you, my dear nephew can cut that poor boy some slack," she nudged Tommy onto the couch, "I'll leave you two and go and start on our tea."

The door shut.

Eden gulped, too busy thinking about how Enzo would react to his secret being exposed, would he blame me? What if he thought I told everyone, he would hate me even more.

Tommy's eyes never left her, her anxious fingers beckoned his hand to soothe and calm her as she did for him, but it was too soon. Far too soon.

So taking out a cigarette, Tommy begrudgingly lit it, hoping she would've done it instead, but no. It was the closest he'd been to her in days, her body screamed for him to hold, caress and worship. His lips yearned for hers, just like his every being craved to be with her all the time.

Oh, how he could not be in love with Eden Dawkins.

"Changretta likes blokes," he said as the smoke escaped his lips.

Eden's jaw clenched, "Don't, Thomas."

"He doesn't like girls," he spoke aloud, coming to terms with the fact.

"Can't believe Polly said that – or told you, Enzo could get killed for the speculation," Eden stressed, turning to him.

"She won't tell anyone."

"And will you?" she asked, earning an offended look, "what?"

"I'm no grass," Tommy took another drag, "and I'm not gonna judge 'im for having a preference."

"But you battered 'im, Thomas," Eden rushed out.

"I was wrong about that. I know he doesn't fancy ya now."

"So if he did, it would be fine," she sneered.

He rolled his eyes, "That's not what I'm tryna say alright?"

Her jittering hands caught his eye, he offered her the cigarette and surprisingly she took it, and quickly inhaled the tobacco.

Tommy watched the smoke drift from her lips and up to her nose in awe.

"Do you think I would care that he fancies men?" he questioned, senselessly shifting closer.

"I don't know."

"He can stick his cock anywhere as long it's not you," he muttered thoughtlessly.

Eden grimaced, "How romantic."

Tommy hastily pulled out the necklace again, earning a groan from Eden, knowing what he was about to say.

"Put it on."

"You can keep the necklace, my neck is doing fine without it," Eden sassed, knocking the ash into the ashtray he brought to her.

"How It's bear?" he stressed, eyes dropping to her neck.

"So what?"

"You kept the journal," he remarked, annoyed that she wouldn't keep the necklace.

She shrugged, "You left it at mine."

"You didn't have a problem putting the necklace back in my pocket," he pointed out, nevertheless, his nervousness was getting to him, "I was impressed."

"'Course you were."

"Just put it on," his throat was starting to get dry.

"Why?!" she yelled.

"So you'll be safe alright?!" he yelled back and it was then that Eden noticed the worry in his eyes, "I need you to be safe so put it on, can't have anythin' happenin' to you because it's not on your person."

"I'm fine," she said, tone softer than before.

Tommy shook his head, "Please, just keep it on you even if you don't want to wear it."

It's because of his mum, Eden recalled all the times Tommy told her why he believed his mother took her own life and the fact she took off the necklace was one of them. Fuck.

Eden swallowed the not forming in her throat and looked at the necklace in his hand as she put out the rest of the cigarette.

"Please..." she heard him whisper.

"If I put it in it means you're forgiven."

"It means you put it on."

"I'm not putting it on," she said calmly, seeing the emotions flood his eyes, "You can't force me, I'll do what I want when I decide, not you."

Eden coyly looked up at him as he reluctantly placed it back in his pocket.

He wouldn't be able to breathe steadily until it was around her perfect little neck and she knew that she's not forgiven you, she's nowhere close.

"Thomas..."

"Tommy," he tried to get her to say, but she wouldn't.

"You said I make your head spin," she said calmly, recalling his past words.

"I wasn't lyin'. You make my head spin. That's good, I can't stand the silence," he spoke reassuringly. "The last thing I want is silence."

Eden nodded, "Right."

"What happened to your voice?" he had to know.

Eden softly shrugged, "Lost it."

"Couldn't find it this mornin' ey?" he joked, nearly putting a smile on her face, "how did you lose it?"

"Cryin'." she told him, his amusement faded, "just for a few nights."

"Because of me?" he dared to ask, seeing her lips move hesitantly.

"Yes, and other reasons, things that have been on my mind for a while."

Enzo, he knew she wanted to say, only causing his guilt to spread.

Tommy placed his hand on top of hers, seeing her fingers twitch in anxiousness, but moved away.

"Come to my room – no funny business," he promised after catching her eyes narrowing, "I need to tell ya somethin' — please Edie, won't take long."

There it was again, Edie, he said it for the second time, almost to compel her to agree.

And she didn't.

"Say what you wanna say 'ere, the doors shut, only your aunt's in. I'm not leavin' this room."

She stared at him, waiting for what he was going to say.

"You never let me answer your question y'know," referencing their last sorrow-filled interaction, "Why I won't let ya go. I'll tell you why. I spent days sittin' on Shadow — he misses you —, anyways, when I'm riding or even trotting through fields, needin' to find the highest place in Birmingham, to reach the highest sights so I can look over everythin', be above everythin', like a King. And once I found it, the highest place in the city all I could think of was you. You being beside me... sitting in front of me on that horse overlookin' the city like a Queen, my Queen. That is why I stay with you because that's what I see in you, I won't stop. I treated you like shit and I'm sorry, I can't take it back no matter how much I wish to. And I know you don't think so, but I trust you, with my life and in our relationships. Now, since you're a Queen I'll get down on my knees to prove to you how sorry I am."

"You'll get on ya knees?" she asked, completely choked up from all he said, his dreams, and aspirations all included her and she didn't know how to feel or what to do.

She started the day, no way close to forgiving him, but his speech made her want to, just a little bit.

"For you, I will," he promised, already thinking about getting down on his knees for her.

"Do it."

As soon as the words were spoken, Tommy lowered himself to his knees in front of her, stunning her.

"I was right to prioritise you," he continued, "if its time, love and effort you want, I'll give it to you. I know I'm not a patient man, not always, but I will be I'll try to be alright. Can't happen overnight burn I promise it'll happen."

He waited for her to say something, anything at all, but nothing came.

It drove his nerves up the wall.

"You owe me nothin', but I want this to work. I can't apologise to Changretta because the truce won't let me onto his territory, not for a while, but if you ask me to do anything else, pride aside and all, I'll do it. Tell me what you want love."

Eden didn't know what to say... its a first and she knew it.

There were a lot of things, he had to do for her to willingly get back with him, but there was a list of things she needed before she agreed to anything at all.

So she said,

"Time Thomas," she said definitively, "that's what I need."

He smiled,he'd guess that was progress.

"Then it's time I'll give you."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

polly highkey just outed enzo... christ. (the way ada did the same in canon to her friend james) i was going to say "back then" but now even now people get killed for not being straight or cisgendered.

everyone wants eden to forgive tommy as if he hasn't hurt her and its tough because wherever she goes a shelby will be there. just wanted to highlight the lack of options most women had back then, they just had to deal with their issues privately and just had to keep going. eden is clearly struggling but is expected to bounce back. polly wasn't trying to dismiss her feelings but she was basically saying what's expected of her.

don't worry tommy hasn't been forgiven just yet, which is why I didn't let her put on the necklace, i mean i would never get back with him after he put hands on my best friend, but eden's not me.

#black reader #wattpad #fanfic #black girl #tommyshelby and edendawkins #edendawkins #tommyshelbyxblackreader #tommyshelbyfic #beforethewar #1914 #smallheath #blacknurse

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zealouscanonindeer · 2 years ago

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12. Prepare to run, Holmes

There was already another cab waiting at the front of the estate by the time we pulled up. I had given Leopold explicit instructions before we'd left to detain anyone who came to the estate and tried to take away any of the decorations, particularly the flower arrangements, until we'd returned. When the butler greeted us at the door, the look of immense relief was evident on his face.

"Mr Holmes... Miss Emily," he said stoically, "You will find in the sitting room two people with whom I expect you will wish to speak. To be honest, sir, I was starting to wonder how much longer you'd be." He stopped suddenly, and glanced at Emily "Miss Emily, what has happened to you?"

"Nothing to worry about, Leopold," she replied with as much of a smile as her swollen lip would allow, "Mr Holmes and I ran into a few difficulties during out investigation."

"It looks as though you were in a fight!"

"We were," she summarised, "Now, I'm sure we don't want to keep our guests waiting, do we, Leopold?"

"Er. No, Miss Emily," said Leopold, caught slightly off-balance by Emily's matter-of-fact response, "Follow me, please."

"And where is Mr Cartwright?" I asked, "I noticed that the family sedan was not in its accustomed position."

Leopold glanced at me mildly; countless years of training allowed the butler to not even betray his exasperation. "The master is away on an errand - and a good thing, too, if I may be so bold - but I expect him to return at any minute."

I sighed. "I would have preferred that he be there for the confrontation - after all, it is his daughter's jewelry that is at stake - but I suppose it cannot be helped. Lead on."

In the sitting room we found the large deliveryman, and a slender six-year old child with overgrown blonde hair, a shirt two sizes too large for him, and an expression of naive innocence upon his face. They both looked up as we entered, and immediately the man's face drew into a frown as he recognised us. It appeared that my last vision of Emily clawing at his face from behind was genuine, as on his left cheek were three parallel scratches, which would have appeared to be nail gouges even had the marks made by the broken nails not been in evidence. "Good afternoon," I said to them in my usual tone, which I expect sounded completely at odds with my costume, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this young lady is Miss Emily Cartwright - the woman whose jewelry you took."

The man flinched violently at my accusation, and the boy cowered close to him.

"Now," I continued, "Would you like to explain how it was done, or shall I? One way or another, it makes no difference to me. But to start, I would like to know your names. It makes things so much easier during conversation."

"My name is Arthur McKinley," the man said in a resigned tone, "and this is my son Adam - but I swear to you, we don't know anything about any burglary!"

I saw Emily's eyes flashing with something dangerous during this denial, and I placed a warning hand on her shoulder.

"Shall I refresh your memory then?" I asked in placid rhetoric, "Of course, you may feel free to correct me if I misstep. You may recall, four days ago, acquiring a gold pocket-watch from a stout man with a moustache. In the process of picking his pocket you left behind a diamond bracelet, for reasons which I'm certain you will supply. The following evening, Miss Cartwright here was having her debutante ball, for which her father had hired four service companies - a florist, a caterer, a decorator, and a delivery service to bring it all in. You work for the delivery service, and your son is the apprentice to one of the decorators.

"Whether by coincidence or design, those specific companies - yours and his - were hired. I expect this same combination may be found at the sites of the other burglaries - but I digress. During some preliminary designing of the ball, you were both given ample opportunity to scout out the estate, during which you learned on the dense covering of ivy at the rear face of the house. While the preparations were being made for the ball that evening, young Adam indicated to one of the maids that he needed to use the lavatory. He was taken to the lavatory, from which he squeezed through the window - which, to judge by your frame, young Adam, would not be much of a chore - and climbed up to the window of Miss Cartwright's bedroom, using the ivy like a ladder. A few fibers from his clothing caught on the rough wood of the window-frame, and I should not be surprised if his had gotten a splinter or two during the process." I took note of the way the boy presently tucked his hands under the folds of his sleeves.

"As the wind during the rainstorm was coming from the west that night, the same direction the house faces, the boy did not get wet during his climb, nor would anyone expect him to have left any puddles on the sill or the in the room inside. Once he got to the sill, though, he was forced to wait, as Mrs Weaver was still inside the room, finishing laying out Miss Cartwright's clothing and jewelry for the ball. I cannot be certain if Miss Cartwright herself was still there, but the matter is immaterial, as she would have been leaving shortly to have her bath.

"It is difficult enough to notice through the sheer curtains a man-sized figure in the window during the daytime when one is not expecting one, let alone a small child in the evening. Thus Adam had an ideal opportunity to see where the key to the jewelry-box would be hidden after Mrs Weaver finished selecting the jewelry for the ball. Though the window had been closed to keep out the rain, I do not think it was locked, as the sash and the latch showed no signs of tampering. So, all the boy had to do was open the window and climb inside. He got the key from its hiding-place and opened the jewelry-box. He had on him the pocket-watch I mentioned earlier, which he left in exchange for the jewelry. Again, I trust you will supply the motive for this curious detail. He filled his pockets with the jewelry, left the watch, and climbed out the way he had come, climbing back down the ivy and back through the window to the lavatory. There he rejoined the maid, who took him back down to the main hall with an airtight alibi." By this point the two on the sofa could see that there was no use in any further denials.

It was a fair trade," said McKinley, "I always left something behind to pay for it, and I taught my boy to do the same. It isn't stealing if you leave something for it."

"A diamond bracelet for a gold watch?" Emily asked sharply, "A gold watch for a boxful of jewelry?"

"Would you have felt better if I hadn't left anything at all?" McKinley demanded, getting to his feet. The boy backed away nervously, fearful in anticipation.

"Sir! Madam! Settle down!" I entreated the both of them, "I said sit down,Mr. McKinley. Your misplaced sense of barter caused an innocent man to be accused of your crime, and I certainly hope your son learns a better trade than burglary in the future."

"Excuse me, sir," Leopold interrupted, "Once the theft was discovered we searched everyone and didn't find the jewelry."

"There is a very good reason for that," I replied, a shade annoyed at the interruption, "Once the theft was discovered, I expect it was difficult to maintain order in the main hall."

"Well, it was a bit chaotic - I couldn't really see for certain, since I was by the door, keeping track of who had come who was on the list, and then keeping the early-comers distinct from the late-comers."

"So nobody would have noticed a small boy stashing away the jewelry somewhere in the crowded main hall, so that he and his father could retrieve it later."

There was a long silence in the sitting room. I always enjoyed moments like this. Finally Emily spoke:

"Well, where is it, then?" she said, slightly spoiling the moment.

"Follow me, all of you. Leopold, I believe those are three officers of the law ringing the bell, do let them in and have them join us in the main hall."

Once my audience - Emily, the suspects, the police, and the butler - were gathered in the main hall, I strolled over to the dining-table and peered discreetly into the large plaster bowl which contained the centrepiece of orchids. The water had mostly evaporated and the flowers were starting to wilt, but otherwise the contents were intact.

To the policemen, I said: "You came just in time. I was about to show Miss Cartwright where the burglars hid her jewelry."

With a sudden flourish I snatched up the bowl of flowers and dropped it on the parquet floor at my feet, where it smashed into fragments. The flowers exploded away from the centre of impact and scattered on the floor, leaving Miss Cartwright's jewelry in plain view.

The report had also summoned the attention of one more player in the story, whose carriage I had heard pulling up shortly after that of the police, and who now urgently elbowed and jostled his way to the front. Mr Cartwright looked at my battered face, then at Emily's, and he turned an interesting shade of crimson as he came to a perfectly understandable but in this case incorrect conclusion. I offered him a tight-lipped smile and prepared to run.

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prussialovebot · 1 month ago

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gilbert meets x while trying to have a nice day off.

he's a little bit of a freak about it.

wc: 917

Gilbert, being alive for as long as he has, had many small joys in life. He tried not to take them for granted, either.

The stained glass in his favorite church, the quiet evenings with the dogs, Francis and Antonio, and that small hole in the wall bookshop that he frequented.

He wouldn’t call himself a collector. He liked having his bookshelves full of older books was all.

Today was one of those days where his brother was stuck in back to back meetings and Gilbert really didn’t feel like sitting in on it. The weather was chilly, colder than it normally was for early fall, so he bundled himself up for a brisk walk in town.

He stops for coffee in the small cafe that knows him, and then, by the time he gets to the bookshop, its mid-morning. He steps inside and takes in the smell of old books and dusty shelves. He isn’t expecting to spot Alfred’s friend standing at the front counter, speaking to the bookshop owner.

“Apologies, I don’t think this is what I’m looking for.” He says as he flips through the pages, a deep frown creasing his brow. He jumps when Gilbert opens the door, the small bell above it ringing. He glances at him from the corner of his eye before quickly returning to look back at the shopkeep. “You don’t have any others?”

“I’m sorry sir, this is the only book of that description.” The bookshop owner takes it back. She turns to Gilbert. “Ah, Mr. Beilschmidt, just one moment.”

“Ja, take your time.” Gilbert waves her off, walking further into the shop to look at anything new that may have come in. He subtly eavesdrops on the others' conversation still. He’s too curious about what the man was looking for.

“Again, I’m sorry. That’s quite the old book you’re looking for.”

“Haha, it’s quite alright. I know anywhere would be a longshot. Thank you for your help.” The man waved to the shopkeeper and threw Gilbert one last glance before he hurried out of the shop.

“What was he looking for?” He couldn’t keep his nose out of things. The shopkeeper frowns.

“An old book of fairytales, probably from the late 19th century. Prussian, specifically.” She sighs. “Says his mother had a copy that ultimately was lost. Poor boy.”

That gives him pause. He knew that the man was American. Alfred had loudly proclaimed to everyone that he was ‘like a brother’ and that he would be traveling with him from now on. So, he gave one small wave to the shopkeep before calmly heading out after him.

What he wasn’t expecting was for him to be right outside the door, and slams right into him. Gilbert spills his coffee on him as they both tumblr to the ground. The two just stare at each other for a moment.

“I am so sorry.” Gilbert quickly stands up, offering a hand to him. “I uh- I didn’t realize you were right there.”

The man blinks at him, before taking his hand and standing.

“Ah, it’s alright. I have a bad habit of standing where I’m not supposed to.” The man waves him off. “You’re….ah…Gilbert, right?”

He’s surprised that the man even remembers him.They had a brief interaction at the last world meeting, but that was it. He’s a little more embarrassed now that he’s both spilt his coffee on him and can’t remember his name.

“Oh, yeah, yes. That’s me. You’re…?”

“Just call me X.” He held a hand out. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

Gilbert shakes his hand. He nods. He tries to take note of his grip. He looks a little skinny, compared to Alfred. They also looked wildly different, X having a dark shade of blue for hair and bright green eyes. He wonders if Arthur is involved somehow. Was he even a personification?

“You’re looking for a specific book? Is that why you’re in Germany?”

“Ah, no. Your brother has a meeting with Al.” He sighs. “I’m here to make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid outside of the meetings. On paper, I’m here as security.”

“You’re marked as security? Why?” Gilbert watches as he reaches down to grab the notepad he was holding before, along with his bag.

“Al doesn’t want me going around with a weapon, it was the easiest option.” He flips through the notepad and finds the original page he was on, crossing out something on it. “Sorry to disturb your day, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

“I think I’ve disturbed yours more.” He laughs. He tries to get a small glance at the notebook, only to find half of the lettering scribbled out. “You’re here for business yet you’re spending your time looking for a book?”

X flushes and something in Gilbert quirks up, takes notice of the deer in the headlight looks.

“Ah, yeah.” The bluenette gives a nervous laugh, like he’s hiding something. He puts a few more inches between the two of them. “It’s an old book I’d found once in passing.”

Hm. That’s a different story than he gave the shopkeep, and there were definitely a few more names on that list. He tried to figure out which one was the actual lie. Probably the one that X had told him, right?

“Listen, it was nice to meet you, but, I should really get back.” X gave him a polite, but forced smile. Gilbert just smiled back.

“Of course, I’ll see you around, X.”

#hws prussia #x33 #oc x canon #prux #engineering shipping

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ivanwainwright · 7 months ago

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Film Project Colour Grade and SFX

Max has been working himself to the bone for this film. His work on the colour grade has been brilliant; I think films like this really benefit from the DOP grading, as the specificity of the job requires an intimate knowledge of the material. He suggested bringing the greens in the flashback to more of a yellow to accentuate their difference from the other greens in the film, and I think this is a fantastic choice. The visuals here really match what I had pictured, a saccharine nostalgia, layered in cuteness but so sweet that it feels a little unreal.

There isn't a huge amount to do for SFX; we need to remove some reflections, form the split diopter, remove a pole from the running segment, and craft the superimposition shot. Save for the pole, these are all done near perfectly. The diopter is difficult as we have to minorly shift the focus shift line mid shot so as to not cut out Young Arthur's arm, but that is really the only issue.

The pole is hard; we've had to cut a frame and blank it out of some other shots. It's at the point where it looks like an intentional rack cut, which works, but ideally it would be removed entirely. Something we'll have to return to after the crit I expect.

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kosmikowboj · 2 years ago

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WOO I finished my little ficlet for @merlin-fic-server’s mini challenge! the theme was flowers, which I interpreted very loosely lmao. this is wholly self-indulgent--I just think Merlin should own a garden :>

in the warmth of summer

[read on ao3; word count: 4k]

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Arthur’s voice gave Merlin a bit of a start, and he nearly jerked the strawberry plant he was very carefully carving out of the earth with a force that would have torn the roots. He didn’t look up, letting the question hang in the air while he continued to focus.

“Merlin.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and set his spade down, falling backwards into a lying position so he could look up at Arthur.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replied petulantly.

“Laying in the mud,” Arthur said, giving one of those smug little grins of his that always made Merlin want to smack him over the head.

“Well, there’s your answer then,” Merlin said with his own smug grin. He returned to a sitting position, shoulders hunched over so he could get a good angle in the dirt, and continued digging up the strawberry plant in question. It finally came free, roots in-tact, and Merlin gave a much more pleasant smile. “Arthur, why don’t you make yourself useful and grab one of those pots I have sitting over there?” He gestured vaguely to his right, and he heard Arthur snort.

Arthur had appeared at a particularly weird time, all things considered. It was the middle of the day, and the weather was practically perfect—a bit hot, if you asked Merlin, but the sky was clear, which Arthur always insisted was good sparring weather. If not sparring with the knights, he at the very least had plenty to do in his role as king, the least of which involved visiting his retired manservant in the Lower Town.

“I’ve blocked off the entire afternoon to visit you, Merlin, and the first thing you do is put me to work?” Arthur asked, but Merlin heard him trudging over towards the little pile of pots he’d accumulated anyway. “You didn’t even say hello.”

“Neither did you,” Merlin pointed out. What a wonderful thing that was, Arthur coming to visit him just to visit him. He held out his hand and Arthur dutifully placed a pot in it. Fancy that.

“No, I suppose not. But I did ask you what you were doing, which I still don’t have an answer to.”

“Well perhaps I expected you to use your bloody eyes.” Merlin delicately settled the strawberry plant into the pot, filling in the empty space with some of the moist dirt he had mixed together in a little bucket. He packed it in delicately, and when he was finished he finally turned to face Arthur with the pot in his hands. “Ta da.”

Arthur just blinked at him.

“Jesus, Arthur, I’m gardening. Are you really so fancy and proper that you haven’t heard of gardening?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Specifically, I’m transplanting some of these strawberry plants into pots to give away. I have too many of them.” He gestured towards the rest of the strawberry patch, which was simply taking up far too much space for his liking. Not that he didn’t love strawberries, of course. But what grassy area he owned behind his home was rather small (good gods! he was a homeowner!), and he had other things he also wanted to plant, thank you very much. “I think I might start a plant business.”

“It’s hardly a business if you’re just giving everything away,” Arthur argued.

“Maybe I’ll sell them for really cheap, then. Not that I need the coin. You’ve given me more than I could possibly ever spend.” He set the pot down and picked up his spade, set to dig up another plant. “I truly do have so many plants. I’d even give you one, if I thought you could keep it alive.”

“Hey!”

“Where would you even plant it? The training grounds?” Merlin grinned that shit-eating grin again and started digging. “Fetch me another pot?”

“Can’t you just magic another pot over here?” Arthur groaned.

“It’s literally three feet to your right, Arthur.”

Arthur huffed, but dutifully went over and cleverly grabbed three more pots.

“I suppose I don’t get it,” he said when he returned, flopping down on the ground next to Merlin. Merlin bit back a chuckle—some poor sap was going to have to spend ages getting dirt out of their king’s clothes, just as he used to do. Though, the rumor was that Arthur still hadn’t found a new manservant, which meant that it might even be him trying to scrub the mud out. Wouldn’t that be a sight!

“Gardening,” Arthur clarified. “I mean, I know what gardening is. Gwen keeps a small box outside her window—besides the point. I guess I just don’t understand what about it is appealing. To you.”

“I like growing things,” Merlin said simply.

“You know that isn’t my point.”

“And what, exactly, is your point?”

finish on ao3

#my writing #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #cannot believe i'm writing these tags in 2022 #merthur fanfic #bbc merlin fanfic #merlin fic server

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helianskies · 2 years ago

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hello my dear! ENGPORT - [ 15 ]

engport, you say? done and done! ❤️

They stand together on a balcony. They have been awarded some time alone and, after a stroll in the gardens and countless conversations that led them no further than the palace walls, it is time for a change of pace. So, the balcony it is. Private, with a pleasant marine view. The sun is going down and they’ll be expected to dine before long with ministers and royals and courtiers, which is something neither of them look forward to.

Such a dreary, repetitive life, that of a nation. Schmoozing, writing letters, travelling, keeping up appearances, sucking up to people you hate more often than to those you love… Portugal is beyond tired of it. And he knows that his company is, too.

Though, there are other things on England’s mind, it seems, and as they stand there together overlooking the waters of the Atlantic, the blonde says a phrase that Portugal has become too familiar hearing from those same, thin lips.

“I love you, you know.”

Portugal dares a smile, self-indulgent. “I know,” he replies. “That must be the fifth time you have said it today alone.” He turns to the other, leaning on the balustrade, and says, “Tell me, are you planning to propose to me or something?”

“I would,” England assures him without even a heartbeat passing—a beat of hesitation.

“And I would let you,” Portugal returns, “if it were a commitment not considered a little impractical for beings like us.”

“Since when did you care for practicality? If… If humans can do it, I fail to see why we cannot do the same.”

“We are not human, though. Not really—not in the same sense.”

England’s gaze vanishes for a moment. It trails over not-so-smooth stone—trails over the fingers he runs over that surface—and Portugal, in a moment of weakness, sets his hand down on top of the other’s. The first time, it had been igniting, blazing. But now it is warm, inviting, and less… confusing. England looks to Portugal, and Portugal offers him his smile.

He had not meant to cause offence. He had not meant to dishearten him.

"What are you thinking about?" the older nation asks, a distraction. "What is on your mind?"

"You, most of the time."

"How sweet. But you can be more specific than that, no?"

A sigh falls from the other's lips and betrays his composure, his personal reputation as an impossible and incomprehensible young man.

“I want to be allowed to love you forever,” Arthur tells him, heart on his sleeve, soul in his eyes. And Henrique finds himself plunged into memory. He has heard words similar enough to those before—and only once, but once was enough. I want you, and only you, and all of you…

“Forever is a long time,” he replies, nonetheless.

“Yet with you, I fear that forever will never be long enough.”

He is taken aback. His hand slips away. "What a poet you have become," Portugal remarks. The other has become so good with his words, he fears. "You must be spending a lot of time with France, talking, learning…"

Yet, England scoffs. "Over my dead body would I talk to him about us," he claims, and the way he says it—a dragon defending his gold—makes Portugal feel something he… struggles to explain or describe to himself. At least, right away.

He hesitates for only a second to fix his stance, and then says, “There’s an ‘us’…?”

And as Arthur looks at him, and he looks at Arthur, something passes between them. An unspoken message with unabated passion, silent whispers of shared nights passed and shared nights to come, perhaps. Or maybe he is reading into the other’s eyes too hard. Or maybe…

“There can be, if you want there to be,” the other believes, a promise hushed between them even though there is no one around to hear of their intimacy. He takes Portugal’s hand back in his own—sandwiches it gently—hands soft, hands warm.

Henrique blinks, hopes. “And… if I did want there to be…?”

“Well, if that were the case,” Arthur replies, “then I have only one simple question to ask you.”

[ final wordcount, 685; prompts can be found here! ]

#hws portugal #hws england #engport #helia writes #hetalia #prompt: forever is a long time #soft engport. only soft. so soft. go get married and be happy pls 😪#thank you for requesting this! perfect prompt for a perfect ship! 🥰

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friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn · 3 years ago

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okay okay so I suddenly had a creative outburst and now I have way too many headcanon requests to send to you but I'll do one after the other, so I'm starting with this because it's wonderful (I'm sorry but you're getting all the romantic requests here, it's your fault for befriending me, I am such a hopeless romantic at heart):

dating sir lancelot! and like specifically sir lancelot after like, the end of season three. because when I was hunting for gifs this morning, I got one of like the scene where he's wearing that red shirt and walking to merlin and then merlin stains arthur's shirt and he's like "I'm sure you'll find a way to get that out" and I CRIED that scene is so beautiful because it could be him, it could be his happiness, that's the life he's always dreamt of and he gets ripped from it in the span of a year and I hATE THAT

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS

These are going to be as much for me as they are for you lol

Dating Lancelot would include...

First things first: you've never seen anyone as nervous as Lancelot was the day he asked you out. Poor guy was a bright red, stuttering mess. It was kind of adorable.

Actually, Lancelot gets flustered easily in general.

You called him “Lance” once, very affectionately, and when you got no reaction, you turned around to see him bright fucking red. So naturally, you keep calling him by that nickname, do you have any idea how cute he looks?

That red shirt he’s wearing in the gif? It’s yours now. You don’t even steal it, he just lets you borrow it once because you’re cold and then decides it looks much better on you so he tells you to keep it.

He loves it when you play with his hair. It’s the fastest way to get him to fall asleep after a long day (when it’s longer, he’ll shyly ask you to brush it).

Okay, now for some Angsty Times™️: Lancelot has been through some shit. His entire village, including his family, was slaughtered before his eyes when he was just a child. And even though it happened a long time ago, he still has nightmares about it.

He’ll wake up soaked in sweat, gasping for fresh air to try and forget the scent of fire and blood. He always tries his best to be quiet, but you always wake up -almost as if you can feel his distress.

Some nights are better than others. Some nights he manages to shake his nightmare off by simply holding your hand and talking with you. Some nights he won’t talk at all, and he certainly won’t go back to sleep. In case of the latter, he wants you to go back to sleep, but you won’t leave him to deal with this on his own.

Alright, that was Angsty Times™️, please tune in next time for more!

For someone who flusters so easily, Lancelot is a very physically affectionate person. Once he knows you’re fine with it, he’s always touching you in some way: his arm around your shoulders, his hand in yours,… it’s a reassurance, to him, that you’re there.

Gwaine gives both of you the “hurt them and I’ll kill you” speech. While the two of you were standing next to each other. Just randomly came up to you and went “Lancelot, if you ever hurt (Y/N), I will kill you with my bare hands. (Y/N), if you ever hurt Lancelot, I will kill you with my bare hands.” Then he just walked off. You and Lancelot still laugh about it.

Since Lancelot isn’t just a knight, but a Knight of the Round Table, he’s often needed when things go south. They’re Camelot’s first line of defence, a beacon of hope for all those who needed. And while you couldn’t be more proud, you worry -regardless of whether or not you’re a knight yourself.

It happens painfully often that Lancelot returns home injured because he was protecting someone else. Being protective, being a shield for those who don’t have one, is what defines him.

And even though you scold him for not being more careful, you aren’t angry. How could you be, when he’s doing nothing other than being the man you love?

Lancelot is also a sneaky little shit when he wants to be. Expect to be tugged into corridors for a quick or not so quick kiss.

And on that topic, he loves surprising you. Loves sneaking up behind you, just so he can wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. If it’s been a while since he last saw you, he’ll literally pick you up and spin you around until he gets dizzy and almost crashed you both into a wall.

Okay, that’s about all that comes to mind right now, but I hope you liked them!!

#headcanons #bbc merlin headcanons #merlin headcanons #merlin #merlin bbc #lancelot x reader #lancelot headcanons #dating headcanons #reader insert #knights of the round table #camelot

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skayafair · 2 years ago

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While we’re at it, I’ll just throw in a few more thoughts. sorry for typos it’s 7 AM and I haven’t slept yet

Why were everyone so alarmed by Arthur’s desire to kill Larson specifically? I’ve seen the concern about mostly this in fics and posts and it puzzles me.

To me, this desire is completely logical and understandable, although I get why John was so alarmed - he had no context. Anyway, I’d have no problem with Arthur actually carring out his plan - it isn’t justified or anything like that, but it’s understandable. Would he feel better after this? Nah. But some mistakes need to be made, as 26th episode showed, and Arthur needed a closure on this. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t resort to killing before. Remember? The very first episode, less than an hour into their aquaintance with John, and the latter already had to talk him out of killing Eddie. Then the old widow. Mr. Faust. It’s not like such behaviour is unprecedented for Arthur, he has his dark sides he tries his best to keeep at bay, but there’s a breaking point for everyone.

What actually concerned me was his indifference to people in the mine. I wouldn’t even mind the “corruption arc”, that wouldn’t be a loss of humanity in Arthur - I like how the show defines it in general because too many people keep forgetting that humanity isn’t really about good things only, it encompasses all the sides, - no, and I’d actually like to change the word to ‘compasssion’: its meaning is more narrow and essantially is what Arthur and John were talking about I think.

The problem was in how abrupt the change was. I was totally lost on WHY and how and when.

When Arthur and Yellow made it into the Red Right Hand, Arthur was alright. When they awoke in the mansion, Arthur was STILL alright. He still cared about peope who might have needed his help. After all he had to go through, after all bickering and fighting with Yellow. And then, just when a totally GOOD thing happened - John returned - Arthur’s feelings suddenly go numb and he doesn’t care about anyone. This looked unnatural and weird, and the podcast has been very consistent with its quality so far, so I was thinking “what thee hell” all the time.

I’m glad the 26th episode cleared the things out - so it was like a breakdown Arthur was trying to process and supress at the same time, I guess. The solution was pretty simple, but I glad we got it, it was really required.

I’m still weirded out on why the emphasis in fandom’s perception was mainly on Larson’s killing and not on leaving the mine people though.

On another note, I didn’t expect this new “divorce” to be solved so quickly. Honestly, I had no idea how it can be solved at all since both Arthur and John went to the lenghts they haven’t yet even at worst times, but Arthur certainly bet the record here. To me, it sounded worse than their fight before the prison pits, worrse than when John betrayed Arthur’s trust.

The problem, as I saw it, was that this time, it wasn’t exactly a betrayal of the other. Arthur betrayed himself, and THAT was the worst part. Firstly, it’s his motto - to never give up. No matter how bad the situation was, he always tried to follow his principles and help the people in need. This time though, he gave up on his principles AND his life both. It’s like he denied his very essence.

Secondly, by setting his principles aside - more like throwing them out the metaphorical window - he betrayed John. Everything John learned from him, the whole journey John had started solely BECAUSE he met Arthur, everything he had to sacrifice and go through to change himself - it flew out of the window too. And that was pretty painful.

That’s why I didn’t see how they would come out of this “divorce”. Of course, the episode surpassed all expectation. I didn’t hope they’ll even talk everything out. And they even made up. What a ride.

#Malevolent podcast #malevolent spoilers #Arthur Lester #John Doe #john malevolent

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The upcoming visit of a particular Noble has Merlin on edge;

Gwen has to explain why to an incredulous, soon to be horrified, Arthur.

TW: Physical abuse.

Arthur doesn’t question it when Merlin drops an empty tray moments after he was told of Lord Dunstan’s upcoming visit, he simply rolls his eyes and mutters something about incompetence.

Merlin wordlessly cleans up the mess as Arthur goes on to tell him to make sure the Steward was aware, and to have a servant ready for him.

Merlin’s... subdued, behaviour in the following weeks however, does invite question, but Arthur quickly drops it when Merlin snaps at him. It’s rare that Merlin gets angry (or openly angry), so The King shrugs his shoulders, and stops pushing it.

If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that all the servants seemed a little muted, not even Gwen was holding the long conversations with him that she usually does. But Arthur was a King, preparing for the visit of a long-standing family friend he hasn’t seen since Uther died.

He had more important things to worry about than the conspiratorial whispering between Merlin, the Steward, and George. So he left it. He figured Merlin was just finally getting in trouble for being a shit servant, and deserved whatever he got.

When the morning of Lord Dunstan’s arrival finally came, Merlin was unusually quiet as he dressed and readied Arthur; but Arthur was so preoccupied by complaining at the small portion of his breakfast, he didn’t notice (or at least didn’t comment on) Merlin’s lack of sarcasm or witty insults.

Just as Arthur finished eating, a knock resounded from the chamber entrance. Arthur frowned in confusion, he wasn’t expecting news of Lord Dunstan’s arrival for another hour or so, but Merlin seemed pleased as he opened the door.

A young servant boy, who Arthur vaguely recognised as being called Tristan, walked in. He seemed nervous, but smiled when Merlin patted him on the shoulder, whispering encouragement that Arthur couldn’t quite hear.

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Merlin when he turned back, but before the King could question him, Merlin spoke:

“This is Tristan, My Lord. He’ll be serving you during the day whilst Lord Dunstan is here. Be nice to him.”

Arthur frowned, sternly saying:

“Well, where will you be? I don’t recall giving you any time off, Merlin.”

Tristan gulped, but Merlin ruffles his hair as he rolls his eyes, before heading towards the door, replying over his shoulder:

“It’s my turn to serve the visiting noble and there’s a few things to sort out before he arrives. The servants have a rota.”

He shuts the door behind him briefly, before opening it and sticking his head back through, giving Arthur a pointed look before repeating:

“Be nice to him.”

The door quickly shuts again, and Arthur sputters indignantly. Tristan cleared his throat slightly before shyly asking:

“Is there anything you require to be done today, My Lord?”

Arthur’s attention is quickly drawn back to the boy, around fourteen summers old, and he fixes him with a confused stare before his brain seems to catch up, and he responds:

“Uh... yes, there’s a... wait, do you.. do you know how to read and write?”

Arthur doesn’t really think about it often, he doesn’t need to, but he was aware that most commoners, even servants working in the castle, didn’t know how to read.

The nerves seem to drain from Tristan’s face as he gives the King a wide smile:

“Yes, Sire. Merlin started teaching me when I first started working here last summer. I’m pretty good at it now, as long as it isn’t too complicated.”

Arthur is taken aback at that. Of course, teaching peasant children to read and write sounds like exactly something Merlin would do, so he’s not sure why he’s surprised.

Arthur nods, returning the boy’s smile with an unsure one of his own:

“Right. There’s a list of chores on the desk. Try to get as many of them done as you can but... uh... ask the Steward or Merlin if you need any help, or if you can’t do something.”

Arthur had no real concept of what commoner boys of Tristan’s age were capable of. When Arthur was fourteen, he could recite the names of every Camelot Noble, and decapitate a training dummy without breaking a sweat, but he knows that’s not... normal... for other children.

Tristan nods enthusiastically, and goes to the desk, picking up the list and reading it with furrowed brows and a bitten lip. Arthur sees the deep concentration on his face and the slow pace of his eyes moving over the page, and makes a mental note to allow Merlin an extra few hours a week, to give more official lessons to the younger servants.

Arthur clears his throat, standing from his place at the table and gesturing at the empty tray in front of him:

“Take this down to the kitchens, then get started on the list. I’ll be working in here until Lord Dunstan arrives, make sure to come and inform me as soon as he approaches the castle, I wish to meet him in the courtyard.”

Tristan’s eyes go wide, and his face loses a bit of colour, but he gives Arthur a smile that’s only slightly shaky as he bows, and slips the list into his pocket:

“Yes, of course My Lord.”

The boy’s miniscule change in disposition doesn’t strike Arthur as odd until the door shuts quietly behind him, leaving The King alone in his chambers.

He hums thoughtfully to himself, everyone seemed to be acting strangely this morning. Though perhaps Merlin, and a boy who was spending a lot of time with Merlin, acting strangely shouldn’t be... surprising, to Arthur.

He shrugs his shoulders slightly and sits at his desk, resigning himself to at least an hour’s worth of boring paperwork.

When Tristan came back around a candle mark later to inform The King that Lord Dunstan’s carriage was approaching the castle gates, he seemed even more nervous and tense than earlier.

Arthur noticed, but payed no mind. He figured the boy was just a little overwhelmed with his duties, and made a mental note to ask Merlin to check in on him, the next time he saw the gangly manservant.

He had no time to do so however: the next time Merlin was in Arthur’s presence, he was unloading Dunstan’s baggage as Arthur greeted the Lord.

The two men clasped arms, wide smiles on their faces as Arthur said:

“Welcome back to Camelot, Lord Dunstan. I hope your journey wasn’t too difficult?”

The man’s smile grew as he shook his head:

“No, not difficult at all, we made good time. It’s an honour to be back, My Lord.”

Arthur nodded in satisfaction, and resisted the urge to frown when he noticed how tense Tristan and Merlin seemed, instead keeping the smile on his face:

“Well, lunch will be served in a candle mark or so. You’ll be seen to by my personal manservant for the duration of your stay-”

Arthur gestures loosely at Merlin, who doesn’t react at all as he quietly informs George and one other servant to take Dunstan’s belongings up to the chambers he would be staying in. As the two of them ascend the castle steps, bags in hand, Merlin moves to stand behind the Lord, giving George a knowing look before focusing his gaze on the floor, jaw tense and face blank.

Arthur doesn’t manage to avoid frowning at Merlin’s odd behaviour this time, but covers it quickly before continuing:

“-let him get you settled and then you can join me for a meal in the dining hall. If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask him.”

Dunstan looks to a still non-reactionary Merlin, and Arthur takes advantage of his distraction to glance at Tristan, whom he had noticed take a subtle gasp at Arthur’s words. He frowns slightly at the boy’s apprehensive face and strained posture, but looks back as Lord Dunstan drops a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

Arthur can see the bob of Merlin’s throat as he swallows and winces slightly, but stays otherwise still. The King doesn’t have time to think about it before Dunstan joyously exclaims:

“Yes, I remember him from last time. I will take full advantage of your hospitality, My Lord.”

Arthur returns his smile, and gestures to the castle entrance, Merlin’s odd demeanour immediately forgotten. Dunstan removes the hand from Merlin’s shoulder, and the two of them follow Arthur through the large doors.

They separate in the corridor, Merlin stiffly leading the Lord to the guest chambers, and Arthur and Tristan heading back up to The King’s chambers.

Both of them enter the room, Tristan standing still and tense, expression drawn and concerned as he makes a point of staring at the floor submissively.

Arthur frowns in confusion, trying not to sound accusing as he asks:

“How are you getting on with the list?”

Tristan replies in an even voice, obviously making an effort to sound blank as he keeps his gaze on the floor:

“I’ve crossed off the first three tasks. Is there anything specific you require now, or would you like me to continue with the chores, My Lord?”

Arthur’s eyes widen and he smiles:

“Three? In one hour? That’s brilliant. No I don’t need anything, keep going with the list-”

Tristan bows, still not making eye contact, and wordlessly goes to leave, but Arthur calls him back:

“Wait! What’s gotten you so tense all of a sudden? Speak freely, you won’t be punished or anything, is there a problem somewhere?”

Tristan tenses even further, and turns around with wide eyes. He shakes his head roughly:

“No Sire, no problem.”

Arthur frowns and furrows his eyebrows, but before he can reply, a frantic knocking comes from the door. Before Arthur can ask who it is, the door bursts in harshly and Gwen rushes in, looking panicked:

“Merlin?!-”

Her eyes land on an awfully confused Arthur and she bows very briefly before hurriedly saying:

“-I apologise for the intrusion, My Lord, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mer-”

Her frenetic gaze lands on Tristan, and she lets out a breath before rushing over to him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek. She tilts his head carefully, as if looking for something on his face as she says:

“-Oh, Tristan thank the Gods. Matron just told me that you had been assigned to Lord Dunstan. You haven’t been hurt have you?”

Tristan smiles nervously and takes Gwen’s hand from his face as he shakes his head softly.

Arthur looks on in unconcealed bewilderment as the boy quietly replies:

“No. Merlin swapped with me. He’s with the Lord now, and I’m serving His Majesty. I told him I could handle it, but he and George insisted.”

Gwen’s jaw tensed slightly as she shook her head:

“Hmm. You’re not even of age yet Tristan, we won’t let you-”

She looks up nervously at Arthur, seeming to only just remember that The King was in the room with them. She gulps slightly, before plastering a smile on her face and looking back down to the boy:

“-why don’t you run along and finish your chores. I can deal with anything His Majesty needs right now. And stay out of our guest’s way.”

Tristan tilts his head in question, but at Gwen’s slight nod he turns and bows to Arthur, before leaving the room. Gwen watches him go with a concerned frown on her face, but her attention is quickly caught by Arthur again as he suddenly exclaims:

“Right, are you going to tell me what that was about? Why did you think he had been hurt? And Merlin told me it was his turn to serve the visiting noble?”

Gwen looks back to him nervously:

“It’s nothing, My Lord. Do you require anything?”

Arthur scoffs disbelievingly, looking annoyed as he retorts:

“Yes. I require that you answer my questions.”

Gwen frowns again, looking desperately worried as she replies:

“Really, Sire, it’s not anything you should have to concern yourself-”

Arthur holds a hand up, his face morphing from annoyed to worried as he interrupts her:

“Colour me concerned. Speak freely, Guinevere. What’s going on? You, Merlin, and Tristan have been acting noticeably odd all day, and it isn’t even noon yet.”

Gwen gulps, before seeming to sag slightly in resignation. She lets out a breath and looks to the floor as she quietly replies:

“The servants look out for one another, Sire. George is the best servant, gets things done the quickest, but Merlin can... Merlin is the best at taking hits, better than all of us. So whenever a noble is particularly... demanding, they tend to work together, to keep the younger or more inexperienced servants out of harm’s way.”

Arthur’s expression morphs once again, this time to one of puzzlement, and Gwen looks up at him apprehensively as he replies:

“What do you mean, “taking hits”, and since when has Merlin worked with George?”

Gwen tilts her head, before slowly replying:

“I... I don’t really know what to say, My Lord. Whenever a noble is aggressive, George will do his best to make sure everything’s perfect, and Merlin will stop the noble taking an interest in any of the other servants; he’ll take the hits. Lord Dunstan has a- you said I could speak freely, My Lord? I know Lord Dunstan is a friend of yours-”

Arthur nods firmly, muttering an “of course”, starting to realise with numb horror what Gwen might be talking about:

“-well, Lord Dunstan is always rather... violent, with the serving staff, especially the younger ones, so whenever he visits, Merlin takes over serving him, and the rest of us try to keep out of his way, and patch Merlin up at the end of the day.”

Arthur looks shocked, and Gwen frowns as he collapses back into one of the chairs at the table. She slowly walks over, sitting opposite him. When Arthur stays silent, seemingly staring into the distance, Gwen clears her throat and speaks up quietly:

“Surely you knew, My Lord? That we get hit?”

Arthur looks at her in shock, shaking his head incredulously before replying:

“No! No, I didn’t know. Why has no one said anything?”

Gwen tenses her jaw, suddenly looking like she’s trying to control her anger, before she replies harshly, but still quietly:

“What would you have us say, Sire? We’re just servants. Nobles can do whatever they want to us without punishment. And even if abuse of the staff was illegal, who would believe the word of a servant over that of a Noble? Like I said My Lord, we look out for each other. None of us like it, but Merlin is the best at working through injury, so he always takes the violent ones whilst the rest of us do his other duties for him.”

Arthur slumps back in his seat, thinking for a moment whilst Gwen stares at him with an odd mix of anger and pity.

He speaks up again after a few minutes, barely audible:

“Merlin takes the violent ones...”

Gwen nods sympathetically, before replying in a quietly disbelieving tone:

“Yes. Do you actually believe Merlin every time he says he fell down the stairs, or ran into a door, or something else equally stupid and clumsy??-”

Arthur nods wordlessly and Gwen sighs:

“-He disappears for hours at a time, and comes back with all those bruises and injuries because he takes over someone else’s... difficult assignment. We used to try and take turns, and still do very occasionally, when Merlin can’t, but he usually insists. He can take beatings that no one else can; he can somehow work with a fractured jaw and a concussion and all manner of other injuries, children who are barely fourteen summers old can’t.-”

Gwen sighs once again, and Arthur looks up at her in shock as she stares at the table and sniffles slightly, tears filling her eyes as she quietly continues:

“-He’s always been stupidly proud of his ability to work after being thoroughly smacked around, AND hide it from you, but it worries me. One day he’s going to take a hit he can’t get up from.”

Arthur gains his ability to speak again, muttering in a horrified tone:

“Gods. I had no idea. I mean I knew a few of the Lords were a little handsy occasionally, but I put a stop to it when I see it. I didn’t think it was this... widespread.”

Gwen tilts her head, catching Arthur’s eyes. They meet each other’s gaze as Arthur quietly asks:

“Does anyone else know?”

Gwen gives him a weak smile and gulps before she replies, equally quietly:

“Gaius knows. After the first time we had to carry Merlin back to him to get patched up, we started warning him when anyone particularly... violent, was around, so he could prepare.-”

Arthur flinches and looks away slightly at that, the image of other servants having to carry a beaten and bloody Merlin back to Gaius replaying over and over in his head.

Gwen takes his hand sympathetically as she continues:

“-A few of the Roundtable Knights look out for us. We try to keep Gwaine and Elyan away from it because they just get angry and accusing and of course the servants face the repercussions for that later. Leon, Percival, and Lancelot are pretty good at distracting them, so we can escape, but it doesn’t work long-term. Sometimes the Nobles are less willing to be violent in front of others, so some of the guards hang around wherever possible, to keep an eye on us, but they can’t do that all of the time. They do what they can, when they can.”

Arthur nods mutely and Gwen stares at him as he gathers his thoughts. He straightens his back and takes in a deep breath before looking Gwen in the eyes, and firmly asking:

“How bad is Dunstan? Compared to others?”

Gwen winces, glancing away briefly before looking back to Arthur’s determined face:

“He’s... one of the worse ones. Last time he was here, he gave the first servant a broken nose and a concussion, and when Merlin took over, he bruised four ribs, fractured his wrist and collarbone, and ended up with permanent scars all up one of his arms.”

Arthur let out a breath and cursed:

“How did I not notice that? Or did I just take some stupid excuse at face value, again?”

Gwen pursed her lips, replying softly:

“Everything was bandaged up under clothing, and there were no visible bruises. Merlin is... skilled, at hiding his pain. You couldn’t have known.”

Arthur stands suddenly and begins pacing. He huffs before turning back to Gwen, ranting slightly:

“This is unacceptable. This is ridiculous. I want a list. Of all the violent ones, all the even mildly aggressive ones. Nobles, Knights, hell, even royalty, I don’t care. I want to know the names of everyone who thinks it’s acceptable to beat my staff.”

Gwen smiles sadly, and joins him in standing, but shakes her head slightly:

“It’s not that simple, that would be a very long list, Sire. I can think of maybe ten nobles who have never laid a hand on any of us, and one of them is Leon.”

Arthur goes pale and deflates, tears coming to his eyes as he whispers:

“Would... would I be on that list? I’ve thrown things at Merlin before but I didn’t... I never wanted to to hurt him, I never meant to be violent.”

Gwen steps forward and puts her hands on Arthur’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile as she says:

“Arthur, you throw pillows at Merlin when he calls you fat. You definitely wouldn’t be on the list. Merlin put Tristan with you because he knew that was the safest place for him to be whilst Dunstan was here.”

Arthur relaxes and nods slightly at her words, but still looks troubled. He looks up at her after a few moments:

“How long until lunch? Merlin will be with Dunstan until then.”

Gwen grimaces:

“Another half a candle-mark, Sire.”

Arthur huffs again, but begins walking towards the door purposefully, Gwen trailing after him worriedly:

“We’re going to pay him a surprise visit. I can hardly make an announcement, or accuse him with no proof, but if I catch him in the act...”

They both hurry down the corridor, Gwen rushing to catch up after the shut the door behind her. She can tell that Arthur feels guilty, but he was right in his assessment: the only way he could do anything about it is if he walked in on his manservant (and best friend and possibly love of his life) being beaten. And that’s not exactly something one wants to see.

They finally reach the hall that Lord Dunstan’s chambers were in, to see George approaching from the other end of the corridor. The servant’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of them, but he covers it quickly, moving to stand in front of Dunstan’s door, water pitcher clutched tightly in his hands. He bows at the King, and glances nervously at Gwen before saying:

“Is there anything I can help you with, My Lord?”

Arthur sees the way he’s stood in front of the door defensively, and whilst it frustrates him slightly that his servants think him incapable of protecting them, he understands. Apparently, this had been happening forever, and they all thought he knew and just didn’t care.

Gwen speaks up, quietly so they can’t be heard through the door, before The King can reply:

“It’s alright George, he’s here to help. How was Merlin last time you saw him?”

George goes a little pale, wincing slightly as he looks to Gwen at Arthur’s side:

“He was... alright. A few bruises, but nothing serious.-”

He tacks on a quick “-My Lord.” as he looks back to Arthur.

Arthur’s face goes red and he looks furious, Gwen has to tug his sleeve to stop him from shouting as he angrily whispers:

“A few bruises?? He’s only been here for half a candle mark!”

George gulps, and looks to Gwen for support. She pulls Arthur around to look at him, and the barely concealed devastation in her expression drains the anger from Arthur’s face:

“I told you, Dunstan is one of the worse-”

She gets interrupted by a muffled thump coming from the room behind George, and Arthur’s gaze whips to the door. George flinches slightly at the noise, biting his lip as he looks to the floor, as if trying to block the sound out. Gwen clamps a hand over he mouth, tears filling her eyes as they vaguely hear someone yelling in anger.

Arthur hesitates for only a moment in his shock, before pushing behind George and ripping the door open.

He stalks quickly into the room, Gwen and George on his heels as his gaze is immediately drawn to Dunstan drawing his fist back for the second blow.

Arthur is completely taken aback by the sight in front of him. Merlin was straightening up, recovering from the first hit, turning to look Lord Dunstan in the eyes with a blank expression. The Lord hadn’t noticed the other three enter the room, and Arthur has no time to yell before Merlin’s face is struck once again.

His head rocks to the side violently, and Arthur can see the spray of blood coming for the cut that Dunstan’s ring had left. Merlin takes a stumbled step back, but only looks to the side for a moment before taking a deep breath and, like before, returning to his original position with a blank look on his face.

Merlin notices Arthur, Gwen, and George over Dunstan’s shoulder, and his eyes go wide, but before he can say anything, or Gods forbid be hit again, Arthur speaks up.

His voice is low, and angry, but he just about manages to keep himself from attacking the Lord whilst his back is turned:

“What is the meaning of this?”

The Lord turns quickly, shaking his hand slightly to rid his knuckles of pain. Arthur has to resist the urge to launch himself at the man when he gives him a wide smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world:

“Ah, King Arthur! I wasn’t expecting to see you until lunch. What can I help you with?”

Arthur’s jaw tenses as he glances quickly at Merlin’s bleeding cheek, before looking to Gwen and nodding in Merlin’s direction. Gwen takes the prompt with no hesitancy, moving quickly around the Lord to stand at Merlin’s side.

She tries to reach up to check his face, but Merlin gives her a short, reassuring smile before waving her off and fixing Arthur with a questioning stare.

Arthur ignores him, knowing that if he looks at him any longer he’ll fly in to a rage; choosing instead to direct a harsh gaze at Dunstan, who still has an innocent grin on his face:

“You can help, by explaining why on Gods Earth you thought it appropriate to lay hands upon a member of my staff.”

Dunstan looks a little confused, but doesn’t drop the smile entirely. He glances back at Merlin absent-mindedly before looking to The King once more:

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with-”

Arthur’s hands clench at his choice of words:

“-there was simply a mix up that required punishment.”

Arthur bristled, and took a menacing step towards the Lord, who at least had the decency to look a little self-conscious at the movement:

“No mistake that isn’t worth concerning myself with, warrants the physical beating of my employees. If you have any problems with the service, you are to bring it up to the Steward, or me directly. You are NOT to take it upon yourself to dole out punishment, am I understood?”

Arthur resists the urge to look at Merlin when he takes in a shocked breath, keeping his vicious gaze focused on Dunstan. The man sputters slightly, going red in the face as he rather indignantly retorts:

“Well, you’ve never had a problem with it before, Sire.”

Arthur takes a fortifying breath clenching his hands tighter as he grinds out:

“So you admit to physically abusing my staff?-”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns to Gwen:

“-Take Merlin to see the Court Physician,-”

He then looks to George behind him:

“-Inform the Kitchen, the Housekeeper, and the Steward, that Lord Dunstan will not being staying with us after all.”

Gwen takes Merlin by the arm, dragging him to the entrance despite his protests. George gives Arthur a brief bow, before rushing out the door behind them, leaving the furious King alone with the red-faced Lord.

Arthur turns back to look at him once again:

“I was, until recently, unaware of this ongoing problem. The people who work in this castle are under my protection, and they are not to be harmed under any circumstances. Until you can refrain from beating my staff, you are no longer welcome in my Kingdom. I want you out of the city by noon. I will be sending guards to help you find your way out.”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before he strides quickly out of the castle and down to the training grounds. He gestures Leon and Percival over, and the confused knights rush to his side, Leon asking what’s wrong.

Arthur tenses his jaw slightly before quietly saying:

“Have Elyan take over training. I want you and Percival to go and supervise Lord Dunstan pack his things, and make sure he makes it out of the city before noon. I want him gone.”

Leon widens his eyes slightly, but covers it quickly. Percival is not so quick, looking concerned as he asks.

“Is Merlin alright??”

Arthur sighs, a little upset that his most loyal knights were aware of the situation and he wasn’t, but he covers it well, looking to the floor briefly:

“It could’ve been a lot worse. Gwen took him to Gaius, I’m going there now.”

The two knights nod at his response, before rushing back to the other knights. Arthur doesn’t bother to hang around as Leon talks to Elyan, choosing instead to head straight in the direction of the Physician’s Chambers.

Servants, guards, and Nobles alike jump out of his way in the corridor. Whether news has spread of Lord Dunstan’s essential banishment, or the angry look on his face scared them, Arthur didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, he payed it no attention, focussing only on the quickest route to Gaius’s chambers.

He meets George at the door, and the normally uptight servant gives him only a shallow bow before shakily saying:

“The kitchen and heads of staff have been informed, My Lord-”

He glances nervously to the door, before looking back to The King and continuing:

“-Is there anything else you require?”

Arthur immediately picks up on George’s desire to see if Merlin was alright, and shakes his head:

“Come in and help Gaius with anything he requires. After, I’d like you to find Tristan and see if he’s alright, he seemed a little shaken earlier.”

George nods very slightly, grateful, understanding that The King had just given him an excuse to check on Merlin before he had to continue with other jobs.

Arthur gives him a strained smile before entering the chambers without knocking, George hot on his heels. The servant shuts the door behind them, and they see Merlin sat on the table looking put out, whilst Gwen insists on holding his hand and Gaius bustles around.

The three of them look over when the door is opened, Gaius giving them barely a glance before going back to flitting about, Gwen giving them a small smile before looking back to Merlin, and Merlin nodding briefly at George before settling yet another questioning gaze on The King.

George stays in place by the door, his concern well-hidden as he stares at Merlin. Arthur takes a few more steps towards his confused manservant, clearing his throat before saying:

“Lord Dunstan will be gone by noon. I told him not to come back until he could refrain from hitting my staff.”

Gwen gives him a grateful smile, and Arthur hears George let out a relieved breath from behind him, but Merlin just tilts his head in confusion:

“I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss. I’ve definitely had worse, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

Gwen groans and gently smacks him on the arm, muttering:

“That’s not the point, Merlin.”

George huffs quietly, before saying, louder than Gwen:

“Guinevere is right Merlin. Gaius, do you require any assistance?”

At Gaius’s casual wave of denial, George turns to Arthur, giving him his normal deep bow before glancing at Merlin once more as he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Arthur was taken aback at Merlin’s casual reply, and when Gwen notices the pained shock on his face, she pats Merlin’s hand softly before whispering:

“It’s not ok, Merlin. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Merlin gives her an incredulous look, but before he can retort, she’s gone from the room. That woman can move quickly when she wants to, but Arthur hardly notices as he continues to stare at the cut on Merlin’s cheek.

Gaius finally finds what he’s looking for and rushes over to Merlin, tilting his head so he can look at the cut properly, and cleaning it with a strong smelling alcohol as the younger man winces.

Gaius speaks slowly as he works, and Arthur moves closer, to stand next to him:

“Hmm. You’re lucky you didn’t fracture your cheekbone. There’s no concussion either, just make sure to keep this clean, my boy.”

Merlin goes to nod, but stops with a smile and roll of the eyes as Gaius huffs at the movement.

Arthur waits patiently, but gives Gaius a pointed look when he finishes. The aging physician gives him the patented eyebrow raise, before leaving the room without a word. Merlin ignores Arthur, watching Gaius walk out with a frown on his face and a muttered:

“Where’s he going?”

Arthur shakes his head, putting a forceful hand on Merlin’s shoulder when he goes to stand up. The manservant flinches away and Arthur retracts his hand quickly, as if he’d been burned.

Gods. That had happened in front of Arthur. He’d seen it, and shrugged it off, like Merlin’s pain was nothing. No wonder none of his staff came to him.

Merlin gets the idea nonetheless, and stays seated, furrowing his eyebrows:

“Why’d you make Dunstan leave? It’s only me he’s hit, people have done way worse.”

Arthur takes in a harsh breath, planting his feet to stop himself from pacing as he shakes his head:

“I didn’t know, Merlin. Gods, if I’d known that my staff were getting beaten I would’ve done something earlier.-”

He looks up, and Merlin is slightly taken aback by the desperation in his eyes:

“-I swear, I had no idea.”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, talking slowly, as if to a child:

“But you... accepted all my excuses? I thought that was our way of acknowledging that it was happening and that we couldn’t do anything about it?”

Arthur exhales forcefully, but fails to stop himself from pacing this time. Merlin’s eyes follow him up and down the room as he speaks quickly:

“No! I really just thought you were that clumsy! Gods above Merlin, why didn’t you just tell me? The staff are under my protection, you should NOT have to volunteer to take violent masters just to protect the younger ones. No one should! There should be no violent masters in the first place!”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes as he replies:

“I’ve had worse, Arthur. And besides, this has always happened, it’s the way of things. The rich and noble get to do whatever they want to the... not-so rich and noble.”

Arthur turns to him in shock, upset that Merlin seems to have no problem with regularly being beaten for no reason:

“Merlin! That shouldn’t be the way of things.-”

Arthur takes a step towards him, and puts a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder. Merlin’s eyes soften at the touch, and The King takes a deep breath before continuing:

“-And it stops now. If anyone, and I mean anyone, is violent or needlessly aggressive with the staff, I want to be informed immediately, no matter what. Even if you have to walk out on your duties or interrupt a meeting, I don’t care.”

Merlin shakes his head, laughing slightly, much to Arthur’s confusion:

“I don’t see what the big deal is?! No one but me gets hurt anyway, and it’s not like telling you will make them stop. I’m perfectly capable of filling in for the others, I have a high pain tolerance-”

He nudges the cut on his cheek slightly with a finger:

“-I can’t even feel it, see?”

Arthur growls slightly, slapping away Merlin’s hand before roughly saying:

“It is a big deal Merlin. You shouldn’t have to fill in for the others, because they shouldn’t need protecting from their own masters in the first place!-”

The anger drains out of Arthur suddenly and he sags, before looking up to Merlin with unconcealed sorrow on his face, and continuing in a shaky voice:

“-Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should have to. I’m not questioning your strength or stupid pain tolerance here Merlin, I’m trying to help. Frankly, I don’t want to trust the safety and well-being of my subjects to men who beat them just because they can anyway. Will you please just accept that I don’t like seeing you, or any of my other staff, in pain, and do what I ask for once?”

Merlin tilts his head, as if still struggling with the idea that this shouldn’t be happening, but at Arthur’s pleading eyes, he sighs and nods, before speaking quietly:

“Alright, fine. But if you put me in the stocks for accusing one of your Nobles of being an arsehole in front of the council, then I’m going to be pissed-”

Arthur shakes his head roughly, responding with conviction:

“I wouldn’t.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow in amusement, before shrugging his shoulders slightly. His eyes harden, and he takes a deep breath before saying, in a voice that invites no argument:

“But I won’t ever stop protecting the others. I’ll always volunteer to serve the aggressive ones, and if you try to stop me, I’ll do that thing you hate where I completely disobey your orders.”

Arthur lets out a gentle laugh, shaking his head slightly:

“I wouldn’t expect you to anyway.-”

The King looks back up at his manservant, an assessing look in his eye as he says:

“-It seems that you’re quite... paternal, when it comes to the younger servants; protecting them from violence to your own detriment,-”

He raises his eyebrow slightly as he continues:

“-teaching them to read and write?”

Merlin blushes slightly and looks down, mumbling:

“I was lucky in Ealdor, my mum taught me the basics; I wasn’t very good, but Gaius helped me when I got to Camelot.-”

He shrugs slightly before continuing, still refusing to look up at the man in front of him:

“-I just think everyone deserves a chance, so I teach them when I’ve got time.-”

He does look up now, smirking slightly as he says:

“-a good thing I learnt as well, otherwise who would proof read and improve your God awful speeches?”

Arthur looks indignant and offended for all of two seconds before he laughs and nods his head reluctantly:

“You have a point. You know, if you want some time in the week to give properly structured lessons, I could figure something out. I’m sure we can find an empty room in the castle for you to use, and the crown will pay for anything you need.”

Merlin brightens noticeably, a wide smile on his face as he rushes to say:

“Really?! That would be great, I know they really want to learn but it’s difficult when I only have an hour here and there, especially when they all have jobs to do as well.”

Arthur laughs gently as he nods his head, deciding that it’s a little ridiculous, how desperate he is to keep that smile on Merlin’s face for as long as possible:

“Of course. We can discuss it with the Steward, but how about... a morning one day, and an afternoon another day? You can split the group into two, that means the castle isn’t missing too many staff at once.”

Merlin nods, not dropping the enthusiastic smile once, and Arthur chuckles fondly.

Yes, Arthur thinks, yes, that smile, for as long as possible.

THE END!

Maybe it’s a tad anti-climactic, but some fluff is just like that I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Same as always, if you wanna write it out properly, go for it! Credit and tag me ✌

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular:)

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