Thinking about how Charles was one of the few who Arthur was honest with about his illness
"Well, me and Charles just about managed to save Eagle Flies from that fort. They was going to hang him, I think. Had the chance to talk to Charles on the way. Told him about my sickness. Somehow he made me feel better about it. What did I do to deserve a man like Charles in my life? What kind of pain does a man live through to carry wisdom like that? I don't know, I see clearly and I see nothing at all. I hope he makes it out of this mess."
Yk there's a version of Arthur out there who failed to kill Eddie and was caught by the police sweeping his office. That Arthur would've been arrested and god knows he'd try his hardest to explain what John is despite Johns fight for secrecy. That Arthur would spend the rest of his life in an asylum, believing that he truly is crazy
So was no one gonna tell me that the ‘non cannon Christmas special’ episode of malevolent was actually a disguise for horrifying kayne lore and a confirmation of my theory that he would fuck with the other Arthur’s and make them play act as his Arthur or did I have to find that out on my own.
May 8th is just around the corner, and do you know what that means? Making cute designs for the Dracula cast so I can get fully invested again and make jokes about a 130 year old book.
I know it’s intended to be a funny little throw away line, but the “Was I this bad?” exchange is so so so so important to me.
John, less than even an hour ago, committed a horrible atrocity against Arthur. It doesn’t matter that the deal was fake, he still intended to go through with it. Fully. He threatened Arthur’s memories, threatened his autonomy, threatened his very well being in a moment of fear and rage and human helplessness and grief. For all intents and purposes, Arthur should still be livid with him, should still bear that affront like a freshly bleeding wound. He should hate John, just a little.
But he doesn’t. The second John shows even the slightest hint of self consciousness, that little sliver of weakness, an awareness of his growth and where he began and how far he’s come, a tiny fracture in the armor of his newborn human ego, Arthur immediately goes to reassure him.
“No-” You weren’t that bad. You were fine. You did great. A thousand little unspoken reassurances. Platitudes, maybe, since he was being untruthful kind.
John was that bad. Yorick has no reason to lie or exaggerate, he was this bad at the beginning and Arthur would be well within his rights to affirm that. To put him down. To lash out in some petty little way and get his licks in while the wound still drips, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t even think about it. His first instinct isn’t to dig his thumb into the scar and inflict on John some tiny hurt, but to soothe him, not out of fear that he might make good on his earlier threat, but out of genuine care. Out of friendship, Out of love.