#one of arthur's famous ideas

[smg4kaizokinnie]

HE HAS AN IDEA ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[non-un-topo]

Forever fucked up over the fact that sometimes you have to write the thing you desperately want to read/watch because it doesn't exist yet

[nostalgebraist]

I feel like I've had the same experience several times now: someone does a new translation of a non-English literary classic, and all the critics praise it to the moon, so I go and try to read it, and it's turns out it's just . . . bad? Like, really bad? And weirdly bad?

A while back, I wrote about the case of Pevear and Volokhonsky. Here's another example, which I encountered while doing background research for my novel Almost Nowhere.

----

One of my novel's major characters is a literary translator, famous for his rendition of the Persian epic poem Shahnameh ("Book of Kings").

To help me write this character, I tried to read the Shahnameh myself. I started out – where else? – with the translation that seemed to be the gold standard, and which was certainly the most critically lauded.

Namely, the 2006 translation by Dick Davis, in prose with occasional shifts into verse.

Here's how the Shahnameh begins, in Davis' translation:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty? No one has any knowledge of those first days, unless he has heard tales passed down from father to son. This is what those tales tell: The first man to be king, and to establish the ceremonies associated with the crown and throne, was Kayumars. When he became lord of the world, he lived first in the mountains, where he established his throne, and he and his people dressed in leopard skins. It was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing, which were new in the world at that time. Seated on his throne, as splendid as the sun, he reigned for thirty years. He was like a tall cypress tree topped by the full moon, and the royal farr shone from him. All the animals of the world, wild and tame alike, reverently paid homage to him, bowing down before his throne, and their obedience increased his glory and good fortune.

And here is the same opening, in the 1905 translation by Arthur and Edmond Warner (which I only discovered much later in the process of writing Almost Nowhere):

What saith the rustic bard? Who first designed To gain the crown of power among mankind? Who placed the diadem upon his brow? The record of those days hath perished now Unless one, having borne in memory Tales told by sire to son, declare to thee Who was the first to use the royal style And stood the head of all the mighty file. He who compiled the ancient legendary, And tales of paladins, saith Gaiúmart Invented crown and throne, and was a Sháh. This order, Grace, and lustre came to earth When Sol was dominant in Aries And shone so brightly that the world grew young. Its lord was Gaiúmart, who dwelt at first Upon a mountain; thence his throne and fortune Rose. He and all his troop wore leopard-skins, And under him the arts of life began, For food and dress were in their infancy. He reigned o'er all the earth for thirty years, In goodness like a sun upon the throne, And as a full moon o'er a lofty cypress So shone he from the seat of king of kings. The cattle and the divers beasts of prey Grew tame before him; men stood not erect Before his throne but bent, as though in prayer, Awed by the splendour of his high estate, And thence received their Faith.

Now, I can't speak at all about the source text. I have no idea how faithful or unfaithful these two translations are, and in what ways, in which places.

Still, though. I mean like, come on.

This is an epic poem about ancient kings and larger-than-life heroes.

This is a national epic, half myth and half history, narrating the proud folkloric lineage claimed by a real-world empire.

There is a way that such things are supposed to sound, in English. And it sure as hell isn't this:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty?

Excuse me? That's your opening line? I thought I was reading a poem, here, not taking a fucking AP World Literature exam!

----

Postscript

Some of the critical praise for the Davis translation, quoted on the back cover of my copy (emphasis mine):

"A poet himself, Davis brings to his translation a nuanced awareness of Ferdowsi's subtle rhythms and cadences. His "Shahnameh" is rendered in an exquisite blend of poetry and prose, with none of the antiquated flourishes that so often mar translations of epic poetry." (Reza Aslan, The New York Times Book Review) "Thanks to Davis's magnificent translation, Ferdowsi and the Shahnameh live again in English.” (Michael Dirda, Washington Post) "A magnificent accomplishment . . . [Davis’s translation] is not only the fullest representation of Ferdowsi’s masterpiece in English but the best." (The New York Sun)

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: As you can see, I switched up the posting schedule slightly (check out the series masterlist for new "coming soon" dates). Thank you, guys so much for all the responses on Part 1! I hope you have just as much fun with Part 2. 😉

Word Count: 5.9K

Tags/Warnings: "Lies, lies, lies, yeah." ‘80s references, a new mission (and violence), cattiness, and some more cat and mouse tension.  

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Foolish Game

“You know, we really are a family here. The whole Payback team,” Crimson Countess said.

Her voice was filled with earnestness as she held the microphone to her ruby red lips with both gloved hands. She smiled and reached out a hand to you.

“But it’s truly my pleasure to welcome Sirena into the fold. It’s about time we got another badass chick on the team, am I right?”

She knew how to play up the packed crowd in the auditorium. They roused with cheers and clapping, and you stepped closer to her in the spotlight.

It wasn’t entirely an act when you gave them (and several cameras) a somewhat shy smile. You’d been on stages almost all your life, but never one like this. You knew you were being seen by the entire country right now.

On Countess’s other side was Soldier Boy and the TNT Twins, while on your side stood Black Noir, Swatto, and Mindstorm keeping himself in the back. Off at the far left of the stage were Arthur and Madelyn Stillwell, both seemingly patient and professional.

“And you look great, hun. I love the new suit,” Countess said, gesturing at you with a playful air.

You smiled a little more and affected some humility. You tried not to adjust the black mask sitting on the bridge of your nose. It felt like a pair of pool goggles.

“Well, a little leather goes a long way,” you joked into your own mic. It earned some laughs from the sea of flashing lights amidst darkness.

Countess laughed, a sultry sound. “I know that’s right.”

“I’m really just so grateful to be here on this incredible stage with you all,” you said, casting a hand at the rest of the team. “I’m just a girl from a dusty little town in Indiana. Seriously. Imagine Smallville, Kansas, but more tumbleweeds.”

Cue more indulgent laughter. The lie was well-rehearsed on your tongue, along with this next bit, as you looked into the closest camera.

“But if you all see some small greatness in me, then I’m honored and ready to serve,” you finished.

Enthusiastic applause met the end of your little speech. You smiled and lowered the mic. Countess nodded in agreement and offered her mic to Soldier Boy next. He stepped up to the center podium and leaned on it like he was John Wayne.

“Well, it’s a good day when another hero joins our ranks. I have a feeling that Sirena,” he paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “Is gonna be a good fit.”  

You didn’t like that smile on his face, but instead of letting that show on yours, you gave him a grateful smile. He had the gall to wink at you. Then he handed the mic back to Arthur and stepped back from the podium.

“All right, one more time, you guys. Let’s hear it for Sirena!” Arthur said to the crowd, and they erupted. You accepted the praise with a demure smile and a congenial wave, like you were Princess Diana or something.

The rest of your team gave perfunctory claps as well, but Soldier Boy was the first to head off stage. Countess and the rest of them followed suit, so you did as well. She and Soldier Boy didn’t even share a glance when she stopped off into the women’s restroom. An idea struck you, and you decided to join her.

“Hey, Countess,” you began to say, but she let out a humorless huff.

“What, are you going to follow me into the fucking stall?” she said dryly.

You were momentarily taken aback by her acidity. You blinked, and she turned to give you a bored look.

“I…just wanted to say that I really look up to you,” you said.

“Do you?” she asked, with a slightly mocking smile. Her gaze briefly ran down your form. “Is that why your suit looks like a Dollar Store knockoff of mine?”

Ah…okay, you thought. You saw what this bitch was about. She’d supported you in the public eye, but she didn’t actually want another woman on the team. She’d been a powerhouse for over a decade, and not just her years at Vought.

But for every icon, there’s the threat of becoming an old has-been, you thought. 

“Well, you’ve got a point there. I asked for a cape too, but they thought it was a bit too…retro,” you remarked, hinting at a smile as you gestured at her suit, and the long red cape that draped down her back. “But really, I’m a big fan. I actually grew up watching you when I was a kid. I remember that little documentary you did with Vought Geographic. The one with the baby chimps? So cute.”

Countess’s brow twitched, ever so slightly. Both her fake smile and yours remained the same.

She broke first with a roll of her eyes.

“Just stay out of my way,” she said. Her cape brushed your arm as she breezed past you. Your smile remained until she was out of the room. Then you took a deep breath.

Be careful, you reminded yourself. You had to prove that you wouldn’t easily bend to whatever bullshit might get thrown at you, but you were still the rookie here. You had a feeling that this was just the first test of many.

You kept your guard up, even at the afterparty hosted at a nearby hotel. Tessa followed Countess’s lead and gave you fake smiles when you passed by her. Otherwise, she ignored you. Mindstorm was the only one who seemed truly indifferent towards you. (You barely ever saw him out of his room anyway.)

You couldn’t much tell with Black Noir. He’d never taken his helmet off in the few days since you’d met him, but you sensed nothing but vague interest from him. The other three men were more obvious in the way they looked at you.

In fact, you could’ve predicted the way Soldier Boy found you in a slightly quieter corner of the banquet hall. His gait was relaxed and arrogant as he made his way towards you.

He annoyed you on sight, no matter how damn attractive he was. All broad shouldered and brown hair coiffed, his face mostly clean shaven, save for some stubble. With his military green supe suit, the silver decal of an eagle stretched across his broad chest—he certainly looked the part of America’s first hero. Too bad he was also a chauvinistic ass.

But you also had a plan. It had started to form after that first encounter with him in the break room.

You kept your true thoughts off your face as you turned to greet him. He was holding his fifth tumbler of whiskey, and he smelled like it too. You sipped at a glass of red wine.

“Small town girl, huh?” he said, smiling with old-world charm. “I happen to be a city boy.”

“Born and raised in South Detroit?” you teased. “I didn’t take you for a Journey fan.”

“The mean streets of Philly, actually,” he said, with a tip of his imaginary hat. “I may be a Sinatra kind of guy, but I don’t mind a little rock ‘n roll.”

You inclined your head. “Same here. Not that my parents approved. Growing up, I had to hide my Rolling Stones records under the bed.”

That much was true.

“Ah, a little rebel,” he remarked. His gaze roamed down your form, and back up to your eyes, shaded by smokey makeup. “Who knew they made ‘em like you in Indiana.”

Your lips curved. “It’s not just cows and cornfields.”

“Evidently,” he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. “How do you like the big city so far?”

“To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to see much of it yet. This whole thing has been a whirlwind,” you said.

Lie.

The truth was, you were born and raised in Brooklyn. Maybe you had never lived in Manhattan before, but you were no stranger to the city.

Ben not only ate up the lie; he took the bait.

“Maybe I’ll give you a tour of the city one day,” he said. He thumbed at your chin once again with half-gloved fingers.

You tipped your face up to him, and you smiled.

“I’d like that.”

Your first mission with Payback was not at all what you expected.

To start with, you’d expected to do some patrolling, run down some leads, do some investigating. Instead, they had a Surveillance & Security team to do all of that for the team. Plus, they were patched in via the local police scanner of any new crimes in progress.

Arthur had paged you to come to his office. There he told you that you’d actually be going for your first save today. You were excited, until he told you that you’d be on a “team up” with Crimson Countess.

Great, you thought.

She didn’t look happy about it either, when you met her in the lobby downstairs. She gave you another frigid look before she swiftly exited the double doors.

Stay out of my way. You got the message loud and clear.   

A black SUV took you two to the Lower West Side, where there was a robbery in progress. The front window of the jewelry story had been shattered, and tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise stolen by two masked men according to the store clerk. He’d been shot in the shoulder before the men took off. The police had yet to find them.

The most unnerving part of this was the cameras that followed you and Countess while you canvassed the area—like catching criminals was some kind of reality show.

“I think I can feel them,” you said, with your fingers on your temples. “They’re headed south through the alley.”

“Which alley?” she asked, waving a hand at the several blocks ahead of you. “And what do you mean you can feel them?”

You shot her a look, endeavoring not to be snarky. “I can sense them.”

Let’s just say, your powers were particularly potent when it came to men. That’s what allowed you to feel the robbers’ energies, set high with adrenaline. They were close.

You pointed the way, and Countess begrudgingly went along with it.

“Follow my lead though,” she said.

You agreed in the moment, but you were filled with maybe too much anticipation and excitement yourself when you turned the corner into the alley without waiting for your companion.

You found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

You froze, your breath stilling in your lungs. The safety clicked, and the man holding the weapon quirked his head.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he drawled.

“But you know me. Don’t you, handsome?”

Countess’s fist landed squarely across the man’s jaw. He yelped as the weapon clattered out of his hand. You jumped back as the gun fired, ricochetting off the brick wall. Countess rolled her eyes and tossed a fireball at the next man, who jumped out of his hiding place behind the dumpster. He screamed and dove to the side.

She didn’t wait for him to recover. Grabbing him by the collar with a gloved hand, she threw one hard punch that broke the man’s jaw. You winced at the telltale cracking sound. The other man just held his hands up in surrender, wide-eyed and afraid. You felt his fear radiating off of him. With another swift punch, she knocked him out as well.

You could only stand there with your mouth open in surprise. You managed to close it when Countess turned your way.

“I told you to follow my damn lead,” she said coolly.

The police filtered in shortly after, as did the camera crew. The director sighed at Countess.

“This was supposed to be Sirena’s first save,” he said. Countess turned to him with a sharp look.

“Train her fucking better then,” she snapped.

You chewed the inside of your lip, but you fought not to outwardly show your embarrassment. Why’d they have to partner you with her, for fuck’s sake?

The car ride back to the Tower was just as tense and silent. At least there was a black partition between you two in the backseat and the driver.

Finally, you sighed and tried to offer an olive branch.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just got a bit excited,” you said.

“You almost got yourself killed,” she drawled, not even looking at you as she gazed boredly out the window. “Even that would’ve been a challenge for the PR team.”

Your lips pursed in irritation. Oh, my God. Is she that insecure?

“Countess, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”   

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger. She glared at you tightly.

“He may have his little toys, but they never last long,” she said pointedly. “The only reason he’s giving you the time of day is because you’re new, and shiny, and full of silicon.”

“And young,” you added with a wink. “Don’t forget young.”

She seethed, and you were almost concerned that she might toss a fireball your way. Mercifully, the car rolled to a stop in the back entrance to the Tower to make it easier to navigate past any paparazzi. You slid out on your side, and you didn’t bother waiting for Countess when you went back inside the Tower.

All the way back up the elevator to your floor, you thought about the way you’d frozen at the sight of the man’s gun. You did have proper combat training. Your dad had paid for the lessons.

“You’re gonna pay us back one day,” as he’d said. “We’re investing in our future, just as much as yours.”

You shook your head and sighed. You should have grabbed the robber’s arm and reached for any flash of skin you could touch to compel him into submission.

The thought continued to unsettle you as you went into the breakroom first for something to eat. You ended up making yourself a sandwich and sat down at the nearby dining table with an unsweetened tea. Swatto happened to fly in for a coke and an old slice of pizza. When he noticed you, his insect-like wings folded back into his back after he landed on the ground.

Out of everyone, his suit looked the most cumbersome with the big shoulder armor and the condom-like mask over half his face. You understood why he wasn’t wearing it now. He was dressed down in an old Ramones shirt and a pair of jeans. He ran his fingers through his short hair and slid into the chair closest to you.

“Hey. How’s it going, beautiful?” he asked, with what was likely meant to be a charming smile.

You were close enough to sense his salacious thoughts. You restrained a sigh. Ordinarily you’d entertain him a bit more, but frankly, he was making a bad day worse and you weren’t in the mood.

So you smiled. While your hand slid over his on the table, you leaned in close to his ear.

“Shoo, fly,” you said. Your words held power as your eyes glowed violet.

Immediately, you felt the way Swatto’s body sat up straighter. With a blankness falling over his face, he got up from the table and left the way he came, forgetting his snacks on the table.

You shook your head and continued eating your sandwich in peace.

A few minutes later, there came an even rarer sighting—Mindstorm snuck into the breakroom next. He glanced at you with wary eyes, like a deer pausing before it took a drink from the pool. When you just stared at him in slight bewilderment, he quickly rucked through the cupboards for a bag of Bugles labeled:

MINDSTORM’S – DO NOT EAT!

As if anyone would want to steal a bag of Bugles.

Just when you opened your mouth to offer him some kind of greeting, Mindstorm quickly ducked out of the room. You blinked in confusion.

“Odd,” you said to yourself. “So very odd.”

“Right?” came a voice behind you. You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, but you realized it was only Black Noir, holding a beer.

“Jesus…” You held a hand over your beating heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d snuck up on you like that. Can this guy wear a bell or something?

“Don’t mind him. He’s got a few dozen screws loose,” said Noir.

Unlike the other two, he was fully suited up. However, he took his helmet off and set it on the table so he could drink. You held in a breath, as you were pleasantly surprised to see the face of a handsome black man. It was the first time you’d ever seen him unmasked.

Wonder what else he’s hiding under there, you thought. Your gaze briefly dipped down his chest and strong-looking thighs.

You both chatted over small things at first. According to Noir, Mindstorm’s apartment was completely soundproof, but it didn’t do much good for the guy, since he had a hard time keeping people’s thoughts out of his head. You thought New York City was probably a terrible place for him to live, in that case.

“And you’re smalltown, right?” Noir asked.

You offered a half-smile. “Guilty.”

“Yeah, same here,” he said, raising his beer. “From a nowhere town in Georgia.”

For the first time, you felt slightly bad for keeping up the lie. Noir seemed like a decent guy so far. You clinked your iced tea with his beer.

“Well, Nowhere, it’s nice to find a kindred spirit,” you said.

You two drank for a bit in a comfortable silence, until he turned to you with curiosity in his dark brown eyes as he took you in. 

“So, what made you want to join Payback? The pay, or the free shit?” he asked.

You quirked a smile. You decided to give him the easiest answer he’d believe.

“Well, the free shit is a big perk. But…as vapid as it sounds, I wanted to get out of the background, make a name for myself,” you said. Noir nodded.

“Believe me, I get it. Around here, it can be hard to stand out,” he said. His brows knitted together while he stared hard at the table. You watched him, wondering what he meant.

After a beat, he perked up and met your gaze. “You know, I’ve been wanting to pitch a movie idea to Arthur.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, just trying to…you know, find the right words.”

Your expression eased, and you crossed your arms and turned towards him.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, waving at him in a bring it on gesture.

Noir’s brows popped up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” you said. “Give me your best elevator pitch.”

Black Noir stood up from the table, nearly knocking over his empty beer bottle as he went. You grabbed it so it wouldn’t tip over. You were amused by his slightly flustered state. He set his hands on his hips and couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he started speaking.

“So, I’m thinking it could be like 48 Hours meets Trading Places. Except instead of a wise-cracking criminal or a guy down on his luck, I’m like, a wise-cracking ninja.”

“But ninjas don’t typically talk, do they?” you said. Clearly this guy had a thing for Eddie Murphy. “Aren’t they supposed to be stealthy?”

Noir raised a finger. “Okay, yes, but it’s a comedy. So that’s the ironic part, in a funny way.”

“So you’ll make witty quips before you kill your targets?” you said, holding in a laugh. You brandished an invisible sword. “‘You’re gonna need a new carpet.’ Fshh.”

You mimed a cutting motion, then blood spraying from your neck as you made some mock death throes. Noir stared at you blandly. You bit your lip.

And you were the first one to break with a laugh. The sound was infectious enough to break him too though. Noir couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle along with you.

You were almost too distracted to hear a pair of heavy boots, and sense the male presence at the door. You turned at the flash of green in the corner of your eye.

Of course, the cast wouldn’t be complete without Soldier Boy. Or Ben, as he’d insisted you call him.

His gaze roamed the room with feigned disinterest, but you could tell when he looked over at you and Noir that he wasn’t pleased. He clung to stoicism as he approached your table with his usual gait: calm, controlled, and arrogant.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked with a raise of his brow. “Could hear you all the way down the hall.”

“Just working on a pitch for Noir’s new movie,” you said, though the man in question gave you a hard stare. One that warned you to stop talking.

“Noir’s new movie?” Ben said, with a curl of his lip. He turned to the other man. “Trying to compete with Red Thunder before it’s even out in the box office? That’s not very good form.”

“No, no. Of course not,” said Noir. “Just…throwing some ideas around.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard. Some kind of samurai bullshit,” Ben said dryly. His green-eyed gaze was sharp, however. “Why don’t you stop wasting people’s time on tragic fucking ideas, and find something actually fucking useful to do.”

You watched carefully between the two men. Was there some kind of bad blood here?

Noir’s lips pursed, but despite the spark of anger in his eyes, he kept it all inside when he lowered them. He got up from the table and left without another word, putting on his helmet as he went.

Ben shook his head and drew closer to you. You frowned up at him as you stood and crossed your arms below your breasts.

“Well, that wasn’t very kind,” you remarked.

“This is the real world, sweetheart. He still needs to learn his place on this team,” Ben replied. But then, his charm was back. His face eased into a smile. “I’m glad I found you. It’s time I made good on my promise.”

You tilted your head. “What promise?”

“To take you out,” he said. “Give you a little tour of the city.”

After that little display, you had even less interest to spend any more time with this man than absolutely necessary…

Remember the plan, you reluctantly reminded yourself.

“Come on,” he prodded, extending a hand out to you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Releasing a breath, you uncrossed your arms and slipped your hand into his.

“Okay. I would appreciate you showing me around,” you said, giving him a smile with some feminine charm of your own.

His lips curved into a grin. He raised your hand up to his lips, and despite yourself, his stubble ignited small tingles across your skin.

“Meet me downstairs in half an hour,” he said.

After taking the time to change out of your supe suit and into something dressier, reapplying your makeup and fixing up your hair, you met Ben downstairs out front. He was waiting for you there on a motorcycle, of all things.

“Really?” you asked, giving the vehicle a dubious look. “I thought you’d be a limo kind of guy.”

“Oh, I am. But today we need speed if we’re going to cover the whole city,” he said with a grin. He revved the engine, and it let out a loud, rumbling sound. It looked like a death trap.  

“I don’t know, Ben,” you said, for the first time using his name. You were actually nervous enough to show it.

He chuckled and motioned you over. Reluctantly, you went to him. His hand smoothed down your arm and held your elbow. He peered into your eyes.

“You think I’m going to let you fall on my watch?” he said. 

You held his gaze. Eventually, you bit your lower lip, and you accepted his offer of a helmet (even though he was going without one), then his helping hand to climb onto the motorcycle behind him. You tentatively held onto his waist.

“That ain’t gonna cut it, baby doll,” he said. He grabbed your hands and tugged you closer, until your arms wrapped around his middle. You made a small sound of surprise, feeling the solidness of his frame. You had a feeling he was grinning.

“All right, hold on,” he warned, revving the engine once again.

Your teeth clenched with dread. “Please, go slooow—ahhh!”

Ben peeled out of the curved landing in front of Vought Tower with a screech of tires. You gripped onto his jacket like a lifeline and pressed yourself to his back as closely as you could—something you were sure was his intention.

You sensed his amusement, though he at least had the decency not to laugh at you. He merged onto the street and zipped through the layers traffic, heading towards the center of the city.

Ben didn’t just show you the city. He showed you his world.

He first took you to Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center. Instead of the normal group tour to the observational deck, he had a short chat with management that had them letting you two up to an even higher level, into an exclusive bar. It was apparently so high up that only twenty people could be inside at a time.

You two enjoyed a couple of drinks along with the amazing view of the city, and of Empire State across the way.

“You don’t get views like this in Indiana, do you?” Ben asked.

You nodded indulgently. “You do not.”

Never mind that you had never even been to Indiana. Yet, you had also never seen the city like this either.

“Thank you for taking me out like this,” you said. You reached out and softly touched his hand. You met his eyes with a subtle smile. “I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but you’ve been really nice to me. Makes me think I can actually belong here.”

He seemed pleased as he sipped his drink, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy,” he said.

You smiled, affecting demure as you ducked your head. It was an act you’d long ago perfected. Men tended to underestimate you, and you always used that to your advantage.

From there, he took you to clubs you’d never even knew existed, then to a restaurant so old, it still had a dress code. (And it was the best surf and turf you’d ever had in your life.)

When you got to Times Square, however, you were delayed practically an hour by all the fans who wanted Soldier Boy’s autograph. Once the first couple of young women recognized him, even out of his suit, it was all downhill as more and more people got excited by the world’s most famous superhero.

You stood off to the side, watching him be flirtatious to women of all ages, ruffling kids’ hair, and shaking hands with men, and even veterans who thanked him for his service.

You signed a couple of autographs and took some pictures with people yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be recognized as much. You had to be content with waiting for Ben off to the side. Though admittedly, you were getting bored and more than a little annoyed that he was taking so long.

He seemed to realize it when he finally looked your way.

“Hey, Sirena!” he called out to you by your supe name, drawing your attention in front of a few of his fans. He waved you over, and even introduced you to the small crowd still gathered around him. He set a hand on your lower back.

“I’m sure you all know about Sirena, the newest member of our team,” he said. You looked up at him with some measure of gratefulness. Maybe this part of the day was working in your favor even more than you’d thought.

You intentionally leaned closer to him, laying a semi-innocent hand on his arm as you smiled at the others.

“I’m taking some time to show her around,” he continued, glancing down at you. “She’s from a small town, so this city can be pretty daunting. But it’s my home. My favorite place in the world. Especially because I get to see all of you.”

He swept a hand out towards the crowd, and they ate it up with cheers, clapping, and some flirtatious whistling. He shot a wink and a raised finger at that one.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said, with one last parting hand at the people. He ushered you back onto the motorcycle, and off you went.

He was trying his damndest.

He wore that fake, debonair charm like a second skin as he got you a private tour of the Met, and treated you to rich food and expensive wine. He was showing off his wealth, his fame, and giving you the “best” of him.

However, you had already seen glimpses of the true man underneath the gaudy show. And it was ugly, with an edge of darkness.

You had that thought in the back of your mind, even while you two sat side by side on a ledge. He’d brought you to a spot near the Hudson River, close to an overpass. It wasn’t an area meant for parking (according to the No Parking sign), but he didn’t seem to care.

Neither did you, really. The view was too beautiful, with the large orange sun halfway sunk below the water. It cast shades of yellow and red and purple across the sky, even over the dark waters.   

Ben was working on his third hotdog. You were licking your way around a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream on a waffle cone, letting the end of it swirl off your tongue. You resisted a smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on the side of your face.

“So tell me,” he said, after he finished off his snack. He crumpled his napkin and tossed it somewhere behind him. “I heard you were making a name for yourself as a singer. What made you want to join Payback?”

He was giving you a little too much credit. You’d been making your money by being a background singer for various artists, but your last big break going on Whitney Houston’s latest tour was what finally put you on Vought’s map.

You considered his question with a tilt of your head. Black Noir had asked you the same thing, more or less. You’d given him an easy, predictable answer. With Ben, you edged closer to the truth...or part of it, anyway.   

“I don’t just want people to know who I am,” you said. “I want to be remembered for something good. I want to prove it to my family too, that I can do it. …Is that naïve?”

Ben hummed in understanding, though he shot you a certain look.

“Not if you play your cards right,” he said. 

His leading tone didn’t surprise you. You slid him a smile. 

“And how should I do that?” you asked. You turned to him, setting your finished cone aside. Ben took the opportunity to reach out and draw a line down your cheek with his thumb. He wiped a small smear of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. 

He smirked. “By sticking close to me, baby doll.”

You had to admit, his proximity was stirring you more than you liked. He was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it too. With his face inching so close to yours, it was hard for you to remember the things this man had said about you to Arthur, how he clearly didn’t give a fuck about Countess, and even what a dick he'd been to Black Noir.

Not to mention, how he acted all the time, as if the whole world was his.

Just as his lips neared yours, you leaned back. Your eyes met his knowingly.

“You already have someone close to you,” you pointed out. “What about Countess?”

Ben stilled. He sighed, but he didn’t let go of your cheek. He traced your jawline with the sensuous promise of a practiced hand. It made your breath difficult in your lungs, rising into your throat.

“Ah, Donna,” he shook his head. “We’ve been on the rocks for a while now.”

I’m sure, you thought wryly.

“What you and I have, right here, right now,” he said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. “It’s special. The moment I saw you, a pure connection.”

Your brows furrowed. Those words triggered some kind of familiarity in you. A pure connection…

Wait, isn’t that a line from one of his movies? you thought. Oh yeah, A Gentleman’s Promise. 1949.

You had to bite your lip to stifle your laughter. This man did not just quote himself.

Ben took your reaction for a different kind of inner conflict, as he continued pressing tantalizing kisses down your neck. You cleared your throat a little, fighting a sigh of pleasure.

Stick to the plan, you thought.

Because he was right. The fastest way for you to get what you wanted was to be close to him, to use his status to your advantage. Timing was everything, however.  

You slipped your hands between you two and pressed gently, but firm against his chest.

“Ben,” you implored.

You were grateful that he actually stopped. His lips stilled against your skin, and he pulled away with a frown.

“What?” he said.

You looked up at him through your lashes, before you leaned in, stopping just shy of his lips.

“Maybe I’ll consider your offer when there’s a real place for me by your side,” you said with a smile. Then you backed off.

You gathered yourself and stood, coyly sauntering back to the motorcycle. You’d wait for him there.

Ben turned to watch you go, unwilling to admit he was both equally aroused and irritated. His jaw clenched, then eased.

After a moment, he joined you and drove you back to the Tower in silence. All the while, he couldn’t stop thinking. About your lips, your eyes, your voice, your soft body, your smile, and worst of all, the way you’d denied him. For fuck’s sake, you’d given him an ultimatum.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had that kind of audacity, let alone a woman. He wouldn’t let show, or even admit to himself, how much it affected him. But the same thought kept turning through his mind as the streets of New York passed by in a blur.

Just who the fuck does she think she is?

AN: 😅 Lol Ben's got his work cut out for him. Think he'll be able to figure out her game?

Next Time:

“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You blinked your eyes wider. Really?

“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.

Ben's cocky smile said it all.

Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”

His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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[itsallgoodmann]

I'm going to act like I did not sob throughout the entirety of writing this story holy shit.

"Charles Knew that Love Existed Because Arthur was Love"

Desc: Arthur tells Charles about his condition and they both slowly realize they care a lot more about each other than they originally thought. Apparently loss can really strengthen emotions, especially unresolved ones.

(Heavily implied Charthur, comfort, angst, death, grief, mutual confession of love...You get the idea. Inspired by the fanart above (not mine obvs!))

"Hey Charles," Arthur sat down on the crate next to Charles, overlooking the main campfire. Charles gently rubbed gun oil on his sawed-off shotgun, thinking quietly to himself, like he always did.

"Arthur." Charles nodded at Arthur, glancing at him quickly before looking back at his gun. Arthur put his hands in his lap, clasped together tightly. He closed his eyes briefly, trying his best to gather his thoughts. He had known Charles for less than a year, but somehow Arthur felt more connected to him than Dutch.

Arthur didn't want to tell him. In fact, Arthur couldn't think of a thing he wanted to do less than tell Charles the truth...

Because he was dying. Famous gunslinger Arthur Morgan, taken by a goddamn lung disease. How ironic. Charles deserved to know, he had been so kind to Arthur. Arthur remembered the weeks after the O'Driscolls had kidnapped and shot him, and who stayed by his wagon the longest.

Not Dutch, not John, not even Hosea.

Charles.

"You shouldn't get up," Charles said bluntly, staring into Arthur's blue eyes, glazed over in a Morphine-filled daze. Arthur shook his head like he did every time someone told him not to do something. It didn't stop him from hoisting himself up so his head rested on the back of the wagon. Charles just shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Swanson's Morphine is certainly doing its job," Charles muttered, mostly to himself, Arthur scoffed in return.

"Why you here anyways?" Arthur took a deep breath and tried not to wince at the stitches from the gunshot wound in his abdomen. Charles chuckled, a lighthearted noise that made Arthur smile...Even if it was mostly because of the Morphine.

"Just, watching... Got nothing better to do." Charles shrugged his shoulders and continued sharpening his knife next to Arthur's wagon.

"I think in the time you've been with us-" Arthur took a moment to think about what he was going to say, his words slightly slurred from the drugs.

"I've never heard you speak more than two sentences to anyone." Arthur shook his head, smiling. Charles rolled his eyes.

"I just don't have much to say, I guess." Charles shook his head, but couldn't help the smile that graced his face.

"Charles...Smith... The lone wolf... A man of few words." Arthur put his hands up and made a gesture like he was reading a newspaper headline.

"If I knew you were going to act like an idiot I wouldn't have given you the Morphine." Charles shot back, but he didn't take any offense. How could someone take offense to the ramblings of a Morphine drunk Arthur? Arthur acted like he had been shot (very fitting), giving Charles an exasperated look.

"The lone wolf does speak!" He said dramatically, drawling out the 'does' to annoy Charles even more.

"You should sleep Arthur," Charles finally said, putting away the knife and other sharpening materials.

"Y'know..." Arthur yawned, the euphoric sensation of the Morphine and the drowsiness that healing cost was really getting to him.

"I'm quite fond of you, Mr.Serious." Arthur slurred, moving his head down to the pillow and looking up. Charles studied Arthur's expression, trying to read his true emotions. Arthur's eyebrows were relaxed, his lips upturned in a lazy smile. He could see the crow's feet that appeared next to his eyes, and the scar that was on the bottom of his chin. Charles meant to ask about it, but never did.

"You've always been the hardest worker in camp," Arthur yawned again, and Charles shushed him.

"Go to sleep Arthur, for god's sake."

"Somethin' on your mind?" Charles' deep voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts, and Arthur nodded. Charles looked at him, narrowing his eyes a little bit. Charles must have had an inkling of what Arthur wanted to speak about. He was quiet, but he wasn't stupid. At this point, no one could deny Arthur looked sick...Real sick. His collarbones were sticking out from his pale splotchy skin, his clothes were now bagged around him. His eyes were bloodshot, and when he ate there was a large coughing fit that followed.

The cough. It made Charles' ears ring, the violent shake of his chest, the crackled wheezes that followed. Charles saw the bloodstains on the inside of Arthur's sleeve.

"You wanna ride with me?" Arthur blurted out, Charles took a second but nodded.

"Always." He said curtly. Charles walked with Arthur over to his horse, before he mounted Taima. Arthur led the way to the outskirts of Annesburg, before riding aimlessly towards the mountains surrounding the Wapiti Indian Reservation.

"Yer a smart man Charles," Arthur started, taking in short breaths, thinking hard about how to word things. This did nothing but make Charles nervous.

"Arthur," Charles said in almost a warning, like he was afraid Arthur was going to beat around the bush and never get to the point. Charles didn't like it when people weren't straightforward. However, Arthur was the only exception to this rule. The only noises that accompanied them through the ride were the clopping of hooves on rock, and the rushing of water from the nearby Dakota River.

"If things go bad, you get yourself out of there, alright?" Arthur coughed but tried to stifle it, which only made it worse.

Charles wanted to get off his horse and punch Arthur in the face. Not because he was angry at Arthur...

But because he was scared. Charles Smith, the fearless lone wolf. It wasn't like Charles hadn't experienced loss before, hell, in the last few months it was constant... Davey, Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Molly... Charles was sad, of course, but life went on. The sun still shone the next day, the coffee was still brewed like normal, and the songbirds still chirped their melodies.

"You got... More to lose." Arthur said, his voice softer, more vulnerable. Charles shook his head, immediately shooting back,

"No. Come on. Don't start talking like that." It was obvious though, even when Arthur explained it.

"I didn't tell you before," Arthur took in a wheezing breath.

"I saw a doctor."

Charles wanted to jump into the Dakota River and feel his entire body go numb from the cold. He wanted to push his hands to his ears and hum until he couldn't hear Arthur's words anymore because they cut like a knife. They made him bleed like no one had ever done before. Instead, Charles gripped the reins of Taima tighter, slowing down to a gentle trot.

"It's pretty bad, and it's gonna get worse."

Charles shook his head, but luckily Arthur didn't notice. He bit his lip and tried to make sense of it all.

"Take a left down this trail," Charles said softly, pointing to the slightly worn trail into the thick woods of the Cumberland forest. Charles led Arthur to a clearing, where a thick, lush layer of grass grew, and flowers erupted from the space.

"I don't remember much of my childhood," Charles said, dismounting his horse and motioning for Arthur to do the same. Arthur followed Charles into the clearing and they both sat down on a fallen log, covered in bright green moss.

"My mama though, she taught me all about the herbs..." Charles smiled gently, then motioned to the flowers. Arthur looked at him, confused.

"These are flowers..." Arthur corrected, Charles just shook his head and chuckled.

"She taught me about the flowers too, if you'd let me finish." Charles pointed to the flower with stems that held a few dozen tiny bundles of red flowers, with a bright yellow center.

"Blood flower," Charles said, Arthur nodded, listening intently. Charles then pointed at the other flower that covered the clearing, a stem that held a single, cupped, red flower.

"Field Poppy," Charles informed, Arthur could have probably guessed that, but just hearing Charles talk was enough. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence, the horses quietly grazing near them.

"Did the doctor say how long?" Charles was careful with his words, but he wanted...No, needed to know.

"A couple weeks, a couple months..." Arthur drawled, coughing again. This time the fit was so bad Arthur wheezed for breath afterward. Charles rubbed Arthur's back, hoping the contact would soothe something, even if it was just his soul.

"You're a good man, Arthur Morgan." Charles forced through gritted teeth, afraid if he said more he would have to wipe tears off his face. Arthur chuckled.

"I ain't a good man,"

Charles frowned, if only Arthur could see himself through Charles' gaze. The way he glowed, Arthur's soft smile and kind words. He acted tough, but he loved. Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, promising himself he wasn't going to break down.

"I'm only going to say this once, Arthur," Charles warned.

"You're one of the best men I know." Charles smiled bittersweetly like it should be obvious to Arthur.

"You're kind, hard-working, loyal, and smart." Charles removed his hand from Arthur's back, before resting it on his shoulder.

"Hell, you've probably saved my life countless times." Charles sighed, then made eye contact with Arthur. What a horrible choice. Icy blue eyes, bloodshot and tearstained, inflamed with the pain of the human condition. Charles stared back at Arthur with warm brown eyes, trying to keep his equanimity. He was normally very good at it, a skill he prided himself on, but this was different. At that moment, in the clearing, Charles realized something.

He was soft for Arthur Morgan. He wanted to see Arthur happy, he wanted to see him thrive. It took everything in Charles not to scream about how he loved Arthur Morgan... And, more importantly, how much he loved the way Arthur loved. Freely and fully. Arthur rarely shared by the campfire, but when he did it was always a story about saving a man who got bitten by a snake, or a woman who was stranded because her horse died.

"Yer' a good man Charles, one of the best." Arthur choked out, now trying to keep his own composure. Charles just smiled, it was all he could do. But Charles broke when Arthur made eye contact with him again, his face wet with the streams of hot tears that poured down his cheeks. It was instinct as he opened his arms for Arthur, hugging him tightly. In a useless wish, Charles thought about how he regretted not doing this earlier. Arthur clung to Charles and Charles clung just as much back. Arthur wrapped his arms around Charles, burying his head into Charles' chest. In a swift movement, Charles gently brought his hand up to the back of Arthur's head, his other arm wrapped securely around him. They both sat there for a good while, breathing in the scent of each other and trying to memorize the way their bodies fit so perfectly together.

"Shouldn't leave things unsaid, should I?" Arthur finally said, breaking the silence. Charles nodded, still holding Arthur close to his chest.

"Then I think I love you, Charles." Charles wasn't going to debate what exactly Arthur meant by this. Charles didn't care. He loved him back.

"I think I love you too, Arthur," Charles murmured, now gently carding his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"I always imagined you were a Bison," Arthur muttered softly, Charles nodded.

"Dutch told me I was like a buck... Unlikely friends." Arthur chuckled, but it ended in a painful cough that Charles tried his best to soothe.

"You think we'll meet in another life?" Arthur looked up at the sky, it was now dusk, and the stars were beginning to appear. Charles nodded,

"I hope so." Arthur smiled at the response, a real nice smile.

"Then I'll look forward to meeting you all over again." Arthur was always the best at bringing out even the most buried emotions. Charles froze, trying not to lose it. He didn't want Arthur to go. He can't let go. He was never able to let go, everything he ever lost is covered in claw marks from when he tried to make it stay. Charles choked back a sob, gently lifting Arthur's head to place a tender kiss on his forehead. Arthur's blue eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, every decision Arthur ever made had spun through his mind, all leading up to this one single exchange. Perhaps death wasn't going to be that bad. Charles brought both of his hands and cupped Arthur's jaw, looking at him, trying to memorize the face.

Charles knew that love existed because Arthur was love.

That's why, when Charles carried the limp, cold, body of Arthur Morgan down that mountain, one arm around his torso, the other around his leg, he made sure to stop by that clearing. He uprooted those flowers and planted them on his grave. It was the least he could do.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for Righteousness."

A/N- Woah! First fanfic on this account! Last time I regularly wrote fanfiction was when I was sixteen (I am in my twenties now). Couldn't get Charthur out of my head so I created this (it got very out of hand very fast). Unfortunately, I do not apologize for the amount of heartbreak this may cause you.

If you would like to leave a request, go for it! I am a full time college student, and I do work two jobs, so there's no telling if I'll ever get to it, but if it's a good enough request I'm sure I'll make time. It's weird to be so familiar yet unfamiliar with creating a fanfic post, but alas, I'll stop yapping. Hope you enjoyed the fic!

Fanart used can be found here, credit to conconarts!

[thethirdromana]

Mem., get recipe for Mina: a food guide to Dracula Daily

Inspired by There and Snack Again (in which you eat along with the LOTR movies), this is your guide to eating and drinking along with Dracula Daily.

All under a cut because there's no way I can do this without extensive spoilers. I strongly recommend not reading this unless you already know what happens in Dracula. Also only if you're comfortable reading about alcoholic drinks - there's a lot of booze in this novel.

Let's eat!

2 May We start with the famous paprika hendl. Google "chicken paprikash" and choose whichever recipe most strikes your fancy.

3 May For breakfast, choose from mamaliga (cornmeal porridge, similar to grits), "impletata" (vânătă umplută - stuffed aubergine) or anything with more paprika in it.

4 May For dinner, Jonathan has robber steak: "bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire".

5 May Slivovitz, if you'd like it (Jonathan declines). Then, for dinner, Dracula serves up roast chicken, with some cheese, a salad and a glass or two of Tokaji wine.

6 May "A cold breakfast" for Jonathan. In Romania a cold breakfast might include boiled eggs, telemea (sheep's cheese), franzela (bread) with assorted spreads, sliced cucumber and tomatoes, and sunculita taraneasca (sliced smoked pork). Jonathan also has "an excellent supper", but doesn't tell us what that includes.

16 May Would it be too bleak if I suggested eating a symbolic Jelly Baby?

26 May A glass of wine as Quincey and Jack congratulate Arthur and drown their sorrows.

18 June There's a kind of Scottish fruit slice called "flies' graveyard". That might make a suitable snack given Renfield's meal today.

24 June I guess a gingerbread woman, for the wolves? IDK, it turns out doing this for a horror novel is a bit grim.

8 July Thankfully the internet has hundreds of ideas for spider-themed cakes so you can eat along with Renfield.

18 July The voyage of the Demeter begins! Celebrate by eating like a sailor: have some salt pork, or make ship's biscuit.

20 July Renfield has just eaten several sparrows. Provide redress by feeding birds near you, bird flu guidance permitting.

24 July Imitate the "feet-folk" from York and Leeds by drinking some tea or eating some cured herring.

10 August Lucy and Mina enjoy a "severe tea". There are lots of severe teas in Victorian literature, but few writers actually describe what's in it - e.g. the Churchman's shilling magazine, 1868, has a story with a severe tea "which implies coffee, tea, and muffins, with substantials". What are substantials? I have no idea, but that's what you should eat today.

11 August Dracula has a little nibble on Lucy. I don't suggest doing this for every vampire bite in the novel, but given this one is particularly significant, how about marking the occasion with some black pudding?

30 August No food details for a while, but in this entry, Lucy notes that she "has an appetite like a cormorant" and "Arthur says I am getting fat". Celebrate with some cake.

3 September Van Helsing has been! And surely he wouldn't have come all the way from the Netherlands empty-handed? Acknowledge his visit with some gouda or a stroopwafel.

4 September Eat some sugar, which Renfield has requested for his flies.

7 September To stay in line with what the characters actually eat and drink, have a glass of port (though ideally not if you've just given blood). But for the real spirit of the day, consider a corn-on-the-cob.

9 September Free space! Jack has "an excellent meal" but doesn't say what it is. Dig into your favourite dinner.

10 September A sip of brandy, with which Van Helsing wets Lucy's lips.

11 September The garlic flowers arrive. There's lots that you can make with wild garlic - personally, I like it in risotto.

17 September A boxful of garlic flowers arrive for Lucy every day. Time to make chicken with 40 cloves of garlic. Other options for today include more black pudding (in honour of Renfield lapping up Jack's blood) or sherry.

18 September The Zookeeper enjoys a teacake, and so shall we.

20 September No food, but the labourers have "a stiff glass of grog". This is rum diluted with water, but you could also add lemon or lime juice, sugar, and/or cinnamon.

25 September Nibble another Jelly Baby for the Bloofer Lady.

29 September A lot happens in this entry, but there's not a lot of food. There are thirsty labourers, however. Maybe have a beer?

30 September Mina makes everyone a pot of tea. Also, we don't know what they have for dinner, but they eat it at 7pm, if you'd like to time your evening meal accordingly.

1 October More tea! Since this is being gulped down by a working man, make it builder's style - strong, sweet, lots of milk.

2 October Jonathan visits the Aërated Bread Company. He only has a cup of tea, but you could have whatever you like best from their menu:

(source)

3 October Dracula forces Mina to drink his blood like "a child forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk". You could either have some more black pudding, or drink a glass of milk in solidarity with Mina.

15 October The Crew of Light aren't focusing much on meals any more, but they have travelled on the Orient Express. Here's the 1887 dining car menu.

(source - I can't vouch for the accuracy of a random person on Twitter but it looks plausible)

29 October No one is thinking of food in this bit of the novel (though Mina makes yet more tea), but as they're heading to Romania, have some sarmale. These stuffed cabbage rolls are the Romanian national dish.

31 October Mina and Van Helsing have "a huge basket of provisions". Have a picnic in their honour, if it's warm enough where you are.

1 November Mina and Van Helsing have "hot soup" into which the local cooks have put an extra amount of garlic. Consider having a truly extra amount of garlic with this 44-garlic-clove soup.

7 November The Crew of Light return to Transylvania. No details of food, but in honour of their journey, I would suggest a final round of chicken paprikash, to bring us back to where it all began.

[81folklore]

angeleyes - LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x famous!ex!reader (fc: amelia olivia)

summary: after posts from yn about an ex, secrets are uncovered about who he is

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: charles’ eyes🫶 one look and im GONE so this fic is perfect for him!!

voulez-vous main masterlist

twitter

youruser

liked by user5, yourfriend2 and 11,926 others

dont look too deep into those angel eyes💫

view comments

user5 😍😍😍

yourfriend2 youre glowing🤩

youruser its that post-man glow!!

user66 so you did have a man..when?!

user81 so so stunning oh my god🌟🌟

youruser • monaco

liked by yourfriend6, arthur_leclerc and 13,281 others

sometimes when im lonely, i sit and think about him☀️🌊

view comments

yourfriend6 AND IT HURTS TO REMEMBER ALL THE GOOD TIMES

youruser you get me😚

yourfriend3 not you posting him afterwards🤣

youruser going thru it rn😔

yourfriend3 esp with his brother in your likes😭 comment has been deleted

user18 what a dream!!

user62 been here a few times, its always lovely!

youruser especially this time of year!! the beaches are my favorite🩵🩵

user7 arthur?? what are you doing here??

user82 maybe he knows her? shes in monaco?

user66 wait is this the ex?? IJBOL

youruser 😆😆

twitter

youruser

liked by charles_leclerc, yourfriend3 and 25,816 others

he took my heart and now i pay the price❤️‍🩹

jokes,, always prefered mercedes😚😚

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author pls pretend the car is a mercedes i was rushing🫶🫶

yourfriend3 YN STOP

youruser mercedes 🔛🔝

user70 🤣🤣

user88 WE WERE RIGHT😭

user62 charles being angeleyes as if that isnt the most beautifully sad song☹️☹️

user16 like what do you meeeeeean he’ll take your heart and you must pay the price?? and he wears a disguise??

user033 going crazy thinking about what we couldve had😔😔

charles_leclerc text me? comment has been deleted

charles_leclerc can we talk? im sorry comment has been deleted

annnnnnd we’re done for angeleyes!! ill be honest i went into this fic with zero ideas and im not thrilled about how it went but its all ive got🤷

taglist: @smartstupyd @papayaaa04

[sports-on-sundays]

hi hi hi!

i was wondering if i could request something where reader is arthur's best friend and he introduces her to charles. but then charles falls in love with reader first while reader has a partner and he confesses to her but she tells him she can't. and then a while later reader breaks up with her bf and charles shoots his shot again and she agrees to go out with him?

thank you sm 🫂

taken / CL16

Summary: Charles x female!reader - Your best friend's brother just so happens to have a thing for you. You just so happen to have a boyfriend.

Requested?: Indeed.

Author's Note: Did you read my mind? I was just thinking of an idea very similar to this one!

You're a little nervous to enter the Leclerc household. Not because you think they won't be just the sweetest people you've ever met- you're sure they will be, considering how Arthur turned out. No, you were just a little nervous to meet his older brothers. Particularly Charles.

You aren't even sure why. Maybe just because of his extreme fame. But Arthur is famous too... He races in F2.

But Arthur invited you to dinner with his family, saying his mother and brothers wanted to meet you, from all the good things he always said about you.

You had grinned and teased, "What sort of things do you say about me?"

And he had teased back, giving a playful smile, "I said you make the best fruit salad. That got them interested."

Now you sit in the passenger's seat of his car, a bowl of fruit salad sitting in your lap. Arthur pulls up to his house. "How you feeling?" he asks, shooting you a grin.

"Never better. Come on- I can't wait to meet your brothers."

"Aw, never mind my brothers! It should be my mother you're excited to meet!" He gets out of the car, and you follow, falling in step with him as you walk up to the house.

As you're halfway up the walk, the door opens, and Pascale Leclerc opens the door. "Bonjour Arthur et Y/n!"

You respectfully smile and respond back in French, "It's a pleasure to meet you!" You shake hands, and she holds the door for you and her youngest son.

"The other two are making a mess in the living room. I'm working on dinner. Why don't you join them?"

"Merci," Arthur smiles, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, before leading you to the living room.

And there they are. Charles and Lorenzo Leclerc, lounging on the sofa. Both of them look away from the television when you enter with Arthur, and their faces brighten.

Charles stands up and shakes your hand. Lorenzo follows, doing the same thing. "Nice to meet you, Y/n," Charles chuckles, "Arthur has said so much about you."

"Oh, really? Other than my professional fruit salad making?"

Arthur cracks up as the elder Leclerc brothers give confused smiles. Arthur explains, "I never actually told them about your fruit salad-!"

"You liar!" you snap, giving him a playful shove.

Then the four of you settle down, and Lorenzo says, "So... You've ought to tell us about the fruit salad, then."

You shrug, your nervousness already dissipating. There's something about all three of these guys- they're just so natural, so sweet. "It's nothing much. Arthur just really likes this fruit salad I make." You roll your eyes.

"Really? Maybe we'll have to try it sometime," Charles smiles.

"I brought some for our dinner tonight!" you grin, meeting the man's eyes, which are nearly the same color as Arthur's- at least in this lighting.

"Oh, good," he nods.

The conversation continues like this for the rest of the night, and dinner is sweet. As the night goes on, your heart grows fonder and fonder of Arthur's family, just as it did when you first met Arthur himself.

Before you're about to leave, you ask awkwardly, "Oh! Uh, Charles, I was wondering..." The F1 driver looks up. "If I could, you know, get a picture with you. You know, so that once you become a world champion I have proof I met you." You are fully aware of how stupid this reason is, and are just avoiding the fact that you're totally the biggest Ferrari fan around.

Charles, laughs at this and starts to say, "Sure, we can-"

But his mother interrupts, "Come on, now. Charles isn't so special. Let me take a picture of the four of you. Give me your phone, honey." You hand your phone to her gratefully, and you stand for a picture, between Arthur and Charles, with Lorenzo on the other side of Charles. You feel Arthur's arm over your shoulders, and Charles' hand gently on your lower back.

After taking a few pictures, she hands your phone back, and you thank them, saying with a laugh, "Sorry if that made it awkward!"

Lorenzo says, "We don't mind," at the same time as Charles saying, "I'm used to it," at the same time as Arthur saying, "Yeah, Y/n, you made it super awkward."

The whole ride home in Arthur's car, you babble to him about his family and how sweet they are and this and that and the other thing. You find yourself especially mentioning Charles' name, though.

Arthur just listens as he drives, every so often putting in his two cents. When you make it to your house and he drops you off, you wave and get out. For the rest of the night, you can't stop thinking about the Leclerc's.

For the next six or seven months, Arthur invites you over a few more times. On this night, you're staying the night, because your house is having renovations on it. And probably because Arthur wanted some stupid slumber party or something, but was too cool to say it, as a grown adult man in his twenties. But facing it, Arthur totally has the heart of a stupid baby.

You could have just stayed in your home, but Pascale invited you over as soon as Arthur apparently mentioned to her that it was tough for you because of all the renovations.

Your boyfriend wasn't available to help you out because he had an accident about a workweek ago and has been in the hospital since. He's going to have to undergo surgery for a fracture. It hurts you to have to be away from him, but you have responsibilities, and have been staying with him, getting nearly no sleep, for the past four days. You boyfriend understood and even pushed you to let yourself go home, assuring you he'd be fine.

The whole Leclerc family has been warming up to you, but especially Charles, it seems. He often gives you nice comments on your looks and praise on your sweet personality.

Now you sit on Arthur's bed in his mother's house, on your phone. He's just gone to take a shower, leaving you by yourself. You believe that the only other person home is Pascale, who you assume is in bed by now.

You feel a shiver at the cold air conditioning, so you slip off Arthur's bed and walk to the corner of the room, grabbing a hoodie hanging on a hook, assuming it's Arthur's and knowing he wouldn't mind you wearing it. You pull it over, instantly feeling warmer as the soft cloth rubs against your cold arms and the scent of men's cologne fills your nose. It's a little big on you, so feels like a warm cozy blanket, almost.

At the growl of your stomach, you quietly slip out of Arthur's room, figuring you'll go unnoticed and be back on Arthur's bed before he ever knew you left his room. You head to the kitchen on soft feet. I'll just grab a little something from the fridge. You gently push open the door to the kitchen, but stop dead in your tracks when your eyes settle on the man standing in the kitchen. Charles looks up from the eggs he's making on the stove, and your eyes meet.

"Oh... Hey, Charles," you smile softly, awkwardly stepping into the kitchen. "Why are you here...?" You don't think before you ask that question.

He chuckles. "I'm sorry. Why are you here?" But the smile on his face is sweet. "Arthur mentioned you were staying over for the night offhandedly. I figured maybe I'd drop by."

You nod slowly, feeling a little awkward.

There's a soft smile on Charles' face as he looks down at the food he's making. You watch as he transfers his eggs onto a plate. "You look cute in my hoodie, by the way. Where'd you find it? I've been looking for that one all over; I swear."

"Oh, God," You can't help but feel embarrassed. "It was in Arthur's room- I'm sorry, I didn't know, I'll take it off n-"

"No, it's fine," Charles says quickly. "I haven't seen that hoodie in months. Not sure why it was in Arthur's room, but I don't mind. In fact, you can keep it if you want..."

"Oh, well, I don't know about that, but..." You trail off, not exactly sure what you were going to say next anyway. You glance to the refrigerator as you feel another pang of hunger in your stomach.

Charles seems to notice this and says, "Want some of my eggs? Here, I'll split them in half." He grabs a plate.

"Well I wouldn't want to take your food," you quickly say. "You made that for yourself."

But Charles shrugs, handing you the plate. "I made myself too much anyway. This will be enough." He leans against the kitchen counter and starts eating, so you shrug and stand next to him, starting to eat your own food.

"Thanks, Charles. This is good." It's really not good. Kind of bland and the texture is weird, but you don't complain. You're just happy he's feeding you.

"You're welcome," he says softly, staring out. His eyes are glazed over as if there's something bugging him. You're about to ask about it when he suddenly turns to you, that look gone from his eyes and replaced with a much brighter one. "Hey, Y/n." He speaks in an overly casual tone, and a little quickly. "I know you've probably figured this out by now, but I was just wondering-" He hesitates, and finished with a little smile, "Next Wednesday night, are you available? Sorry it's a random day- my upcoming week is pretty full, but..." He trails off, apparently deciding he's rambling too much now, and just looks at your face, waiting for an answer.

Only now do you realize how close his face is to yours. Only now do you see his constant sweet comments were more like flirting. Only now you notice the look in his eyes is less like the one of an older brother, and more like the one of a man who's interested. This shocks you. While of course you can't deny he's extremely handsome, and while of course you can't deny you're kind of a huge fan of his, and while of course you can't deny he has one of the sweetest personalities ever, it's never honestly really crossed your mind at all that he could like you in a way like that. And you know why this is. If you didn't have a boyfriend, you're sure you'd already have a huge crush on Charles by now. It would be a classic 'being into your best friend's hot older brother'.

But you feel so such feelings now. You swallow, meeting his glimmering eyes. "Are you asking me out?" You just want to be sure.

His face brightens, his little dimples showing with his smile. He nods. "Exactly."

You blink and look down. You carefully choose your words: "I'm very flattered, Charles. Thank you. I'm afraid I'll have to say no- You must not know that I already have a boyfriend."

Charles looks over and opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly the need wells up within you to quickly add, "I mean the reason why I'm not staying with my boyfriend tonight while so many of the rooms in my house are getting renovated is only because he's in the hospital right now so regularly I'd be doing that but you know he's gone so I was gonna just stay in my half-done flat but then Arthur and your mum suggested-"

Suddenly Charles very gently cuts off your anxious rambling, placing a hand on your arm, "I'm so sorry to hear that, Y/n. Sounds like... a lot's just kind of coming done on you, huh? I've been there. I... I'm sorry for bringing that up... you know, asking you out and all. I had no idea; I swear." He genuinely looks like he does feel bad for it.

"Oh, it's okay, Charles..." Your eyes meet his, and you can't help but realize how much of a sweetie he really is. "Thanks... It's fine. You didn't know. I just- yeah. Thanks for understanding. You probably know how it is- sometimes in hard times it's nice to just have a few people that have got your back." You hesitate, before finishing in nearly a whisper, "Honestly, Charles, you and your family feel like... You're all so dear to me. You're starting to feel more like home than my own family." Your own family who don't have your back right now, while the Leclerc's do.

He smiles and gently gives you probably the softest hug you've ever received. It's short, and he pulls away quickly, saying with a soft smile, "I should have assumed you have a boyfriend already. I can't imagine a woman as beautiful as you not." He winks.

You smile softly, staring at the kitchen floor. There was something about that hug... Just so needed. It was so comforting. Arthur is good at comforting too, but in a different way. He's not a hug type of guy. He just jokes and distracts and keeps your mind off your troubles. You weren't expecting such a sweet hug from Charles just now.

You chuckle and look back up to meet his eyes. "You are not smooth, you know," you tease, although in all honesty, he kind of is.

"Alright," he nods, clearly enjoying a little bit of teasing, "you keep telling yourself that."

Then Arthur comes in, saying, "Y/n, there you are! Let's go to my room; I'm done showering. I have some funny sh*t to show you."

You walk away with Arthur, but can't help but glance back at at Charles. He attempts at another wink, but ends up pretty much just blinking. You chuckle to yourself.

"What?" Arthur asks.

"Oh, nothing. Just your brother."

About three months later, Arthur stands up from the sofa in Charles flat when his phone starts ringing. "I've got to take this," Charles' younger brother comments, walking out of the room. He shuts the door to the hallway behind him. Charles really doesn't care and is about to take out his own phone and start scrolling, but his ears perk up when he hears his brother say, "Hey, Y/n. What's good?"

Charles knows he shouldn't, but can't help himself from listening to Arthur's half of your phone conversation, which is: "I'm good. Any reason you called?... What is it?... Oh, I'm sorry, Y/n. How are you taking it?... Oh? Why?... That's good, Y/n. The last thing you need is a broken heart, huh? Then I'd have to fix it up for you... No, I didn't mean it like that!" Arthur laughs. "...So, how's it feel to be a single woman again?" Charles' eyes stare at the door, his heart involuntarily beating faster. "...No, no, Y/n! That's not what I meant! Gosh, why do all the things I say sound so obnoxiously flirtatious? I'm not even trying to sound like that... Oh, yeah, I don't... Okay, hah... Oh, I'm just hanging out with Charles... No, no, he didn't. I'm out of the room. I know sometimes you have personal things to say... Why do you sound disappointed?... Oh, right, sorry... Alright, bye bye, Y/n... Bye." As soon as Charles hears the phone beep and the doorknob to the room starts to turn open again, he stares down back at his phone, trying to calm his nerves as best he can. He'd feel terribly bad if he knew Arthur had known he was eavesdropping.

"Who was it?" Charles asks, trying to sound as natural as possible, at the same time as trying not to sound obnoxious or nosy.

"Oh, just Y/n," Arthur says, and quickly moves on with another topic of conversation. But the whole time, Charles can't stop thinking about you.

There was no way you weren't going to be going to Abu Dhabi with the Leclerc boys. So here you are, Sunday race day, on the paddock for the last F1 race of the season.

Suddenly, though, you feel a distinct touch on your arm, different from all the other people bumping into you from around. You turn to that direction and fix your eyes on Charles Leclerc.

Oh God. Why is your heart suddenly racing like this? It's been about three months since cutting it off with your now ex-boyfriend, and pretty much the day after that, a little seed of liking for Charles that you had been keeping from nourishing for all this time sprouted.

It's like it's been an underlying feeling you've had for... Well, probably over a year now. And even before that, you certainly had a little fangirl crush on him; no doubt about that one.

His hair, which is in need of a little trim you think (not seriously bad) is slightly messed up, and he has the sweetest little shine in his honestly quite lovely eyes. He's recently shaved, and his little dimples are so defined right now in the outdoor light of the late afternoon. You can't help but notice how his defined jawline turns into his strong neck, and how broad and strong his shoulders are. And on top of it all his tight fireproof defines his pecs so clearly you-

God, why are you checking Charles out like this?

"Y/n?" Charles asks, "Did you hear me?" Apparently, you'd been so taken away by his appearance (which is literally how he looks pretty much every race weekend...?) that you hadn't even heard him the first time.

You blush. "Oh, right, sorry. Yes?"

His lip twitches, and he seems to study you now, before leaning close and saying as soft as possible while still having you hear, "I was wondering... When we get back to Monaco, could I take you out to eat? It's just that I heard you broke up with-"

"Yes," you blurt, and kind of want to slap yourself. Just a little bit.

But his face lights up at your seemingly extreme willingness. "Really? So do you feel the same way?"

"Well," you put a teasing smile on, "I'd have to know how you feel about me first before answering that."

"You know..."

"Then say it."

"Well, I have feelings for you."

"Well, then maybe I have feelings for you, too." Your heart is pounding.

"So that means you'd like to go out to eat with me?"

You smirk softly. "I guess it does."

You open your door, wearing your best. Charles insisted on bringing you to a very nice, expensive place. You weren't so sure- that's not quite your type of environment- but agreed to it.

And, well, he looks amazing.

He wears a fitting black tuxedo, dress shoes, and a lovely smile on his face. Lovely dimples.

But he says, "Oh my God, Y/n." Intense feelings briefly flash in his eyes. "That dress... those shoes... your makeup... your hair. You look... gorgeous."

"Oh, stop," you murmur, smiling softly, looking away.

"Well, then, princess," he takes your hand in his, gently in his and kisses it, before walking to his Ferrari with you, still holding your hand. Despite how cheesy and cliché this really is, you can't help but be charmed.

He opens the car door for you and you get in. He shuts it and when he starts driving, takes your hand in his again. "Y/n," he says softly, "I'm going to make this the best date you've ever experienced and treat you like the princess you are."

[bloodyshadow1]

So I made a post about Adaine being the principal after killing Arthur Aguefort in a duel. And if that happens I think it would be fun for the bad kids to join her as teachers so here's what I think they teach

Kristen- Cleric teacher obviously. I think she's the most powerful and best cleric in the world, or at the very least Elmville even if she stumbles a lot. I think her background as helioic/solesian, who created her own god and found then revived another gives her a very unique perspective for any young clerics out there. I also think as someone who worships a pantheon it would work like Yolanda giving up her path of following a single god to be more fair to the students she teaches, unlike Bobby Dawn. Kristen has made as many mistakes as you can as a cleric so she would be a very good person to teach kids who might have anxiety about their choices.

Fabian- Bard Teacher, dance and sword. Corsica is a young woman as the fighter teacher so there's no real reason to replace her when the bad kids come of age. Fabian also drifted away from fighter so hard to bard it's clear where his heart is even if he's still an amazing fighter. I think he would be the teacher that brags about being the future and present of dance, along with being the Oracool of Dance to his students. He also has made a lot of steps from his stumbles in his school days and assures his students it's okay to fail, it's okay to wallow but you do have to pick yourself up still. Seacaster manor is still used as a study hall for any students who need it and his is the teacher willing to help any and all students, no matter the class or grade

Gorgug- Barbarian teacher. While I think artificing has his heart more, I could see Gorgug as an amazing Barbarian teacher. His goal is to undo a lot of the toxic aspects of rage and being a barbarian that people like Porter tried to force upon the class and the students taking it. He teaches about the positives of rage, that while it's a strong weapon, it can be an amazing shield to protect people. He is also the main multiclass advisor, he never refuses an MCAT request, he does ask questions but to let students talk about their interests not to make thing think their ideas are stupid or pointless

Riz- Rogue teacher. I think Riz starts to work for the CoC (Council of Chosen) for a bit after graduation, but doesn't like it since it feels more like Narc shit than spy work like his dad did. He's more fair than Yolanda, he is on school grounds more so kids have a chance to find him instead of having to go to a town miles away to find Eugenia. He focuses on the practical application of being a rogue, stressing that it's more than just damage for sneak attack. Being a rogue is about team work to make sneak attack easier, knowing your terrain to making hiding easier and not to jump into lava when you're not fire resistant or immune, investigating things not just focus on killing people

Fig- Sorcery teacher. Obviously she wouldn't be the bard teacher. She didn't go to bard classes as a student, why would she go as a teacher, despite being one of the most famous musicians in Spire. At first it seems like she's just another Jace, you know just hanging with her students instead of really teaching because sorcery is innate. But she's actually very good with them, she actually has experience in knowing what it's like to get powers from your blood instead of hard work. she also encourages her students to try multiclassing since they have time at school, she doesn't want them wasting the time they have when their young. Hackysack is fun, but they should try things when they're young and can get easy A's so try other class.

Adaine- Before she became principal she takes over for Tiberia as the wizarding teacher. she is much kinder and sympathetic than the previous teacher. She also doesn't make her students buy their own spell components and she makes sure that they know that they can explore other disciplines. Everyone thinks she's the sweet gentle wizard teacher until one of her students get bullied and she throws the other kid off them, or a monster attacks the school and she just decks it in the face exploding it's skull from the force of the blow. I also think she recommends that her students get exercise more than any previous wizard teacher. Studying and reading is important, but spells aren't everything, sometimes a healthy lifestyle can save you more than just magic.

[vixensdungeon]

You've probably asked yourself

What are psychology mechanics in tabletop roleplaying games?

Or maybe you haven't, because that's a term used by like two people because it was made up by me. But others have come up with it before me! Warhammer, for example, uses "psychology" to mean effects like Hatred and Stupidity that modify the behavior of units on the battlefield. And that's thesame basic concept we're talking about.

Psychology is a game mechanic that represents a character's inner life and modifies their behavior. Some would call such a thing a "roleplaying mechanic," but those people are silly with a limited idea of what roleplaying is.

Psychology mechanics fall broadly into three categories, or three C’s. They are:

enCourage: if you do X I’ll give you a little treat Coerce: do X or suffer the consequences Compel: you do X

Encouraging mechanics seem the most in vogue in modern design, though I think the other two have their place. (I briefly considered naming the first one Consent but that wouldn't reflect how the mechanic acts upon the character, and in truth the player consents to all three by playing a game with such mechanics in it)

One game I think is particularly famous for its psychology rules, that being Call of Cthulhu with its Sanity mechanic, and I think King Arthur Pendragon deserves a nod for its passions and such, but we’re going to talk about a different one. Paradigm shifting in its time, seen as traditional these days, it’s Vampire: The Masquerade, the cool game for sexy goths!

To help us delve into the World of Darkness, we’ll employ the guidance of Malcolm Fisher, a Lick currently operating somewhere in England. Say hi, Malcolm!

I knew the vixen was trouble the moment she walked into my life, with an air of mystery and danger, and thighs that-

Ahem, yes, thank you. I think we don’t need to hear from Malcolm anymore, wouldn’t you agree? Instead we’ll use his character sheet to explore the various psychology mechanics in Vampire.

Vampire 5th Edition doesn't actually have an example of encouraging mechanics that I can remember (correct me if I'm wrong), so we'll briefly dip into its predecessors for that. Malcolm has two archetypes, a Demeanor and a Nature. In his case both match: Enigma. Whenever Malcolm acts in accordance to his Nature, in this case by perplexing other characters through actions that turn out to make sense in hindsight, he regains spent Willpower. This encourages Malcolm to act a certain way.

V5's compulsions are, despite the name, a coercive mechanic according to the terminology I made up. When Malcolm suffers a bestial failure on a roll, he might suffer from a compulsion. We'll assume that in this case it's not the one specific to his Clan, Malkavian, but rather one of the generic ones: Paranoia (still appropriate for him). Any action not taken to disengage from any perceived threat suffers a penalty. This coerces Malcolm to act a certain way by punishing him for doing otherwise.

Finally we have the big one, Frenzy. This prevents a player from saying something to the effect of "I would simply not flee in terror from fire." I'm terribly sorry but that's not for you to decide. Unless one decides to ride the wave and not resist the frenzy, the Storyteller takes control of the character. Seeing a large bonfire after a particularly draining investigation, Malcolm fails his Willpower roll and falls into a terror frenzy. He will flee from the fire in the most expedient manner, whether the player wanted to or not. This compels Malcolm to act in a certain way, because he has no other choice.

And there you have it. That's the general gist of psychology mechanics.

[fancyfeathers]

zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)

[morbidology]

The Cottingley Fairies story is one of the most fascinating tales of deception in the 20th century, capturing the imagination of the public and even fooling some of the greatest minds of the time. What began as an innocent prank by two young girls in Yorkshire, England, grew into a phenomenon that blurred the lines between fantasy and reality, challenging people's willingness to believe in the extraordinary.

In the summer of 1917, 16-year-old Elsie Wright and her 9-year-old cousin Frances Griffiths lived in the village of Cottingley, near Bradford. Like many children, they were enchanted by the idea of fairies, inspired by the lush surroundings of the Cottingley Beck, a small stream near their home. Using Elsie's father's camera, the girls took a series of photographs that appeared to show them interacting with delicate, winged fairies. The first photograph depicted Frances with several small fairies dancing in front of her, while another showed Elsie sitting with a gnome.

The photographs were meant to be a playful trick, a way to amuse themselves and their families. Elsie had drawn the fairies on paper, cut them out, and used hatpins to secure them in the ground before posing with them. To the girls' surprise, the images turned out convincingly lifelike, and their parents, especially Elsie's father, were skeptical but intrigued.

The Cottingley Fairies might have remained a private family joke if not for the involvement of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the famous author of the Sherlock Holmes stories. Conan Doyle was a devout Spiritualist, deeply interested in the supernatural and the possibility of life beyond the physical world. In 1920, when the photographs came to his attention through a mutual friend of the Wright family, he was immediately captivated.

Conan Doyle saw the photographs as possible evidence of the existence of fairies, which aligned with his belief in the spiritual world. He wrote an article for The Strand Magazine, enthusiastically presenting the photos as proof of supernatural beings. The article, published in December 1920, included two of the fairy photographs and generated widespread interest and debate. Many people were fascinated by the idea that fairies might be real, while others remained skeptical, questioning the authenticity of the images.

The public's reaction to the Cottingley Fairies was mixed. Some embraced the photographs as genuine evidence of a hidden world, taking comfort in the idea of magical beings inhabiting the natural environment. Others were more critical, pointing out the suspiciously paper-like appearance of the fairies and the potential for trickery. Despite the skepticism, the fairies captivated the popular imagination, particularly in a post-World War I society that yearned for wonder and escapism.

The controversy over the photographs persisted for decades, with many debates centered on whether the images were authentic or a clever hoax. Despite advances in photographic analysis, the fairies' true nature remained elusive, partly because of the credibility that figures like Conan Doyle lent to the story.

It wasn't until the 1980s, more than 60 years after the photographs were taken, that Elsie and Frances finally admitted the truth. In interviews with The Unexplained magazine and in a book titled The Secret of the Cottingley Fairies, the elderly women confessed that the fairies were indeed cardboard cutouts, inspired by illustrations from a children's book. However, they maintained that they really had seen fairies in Cottingley Beck and claimed that one of the five photographs, the final one, was genuine.

Even with this admission, the allure of the Cottingley Fairies story persisted. The photographs had become iconic, not just as a historical curiosity but as a testament to the power of belief and the human desire for magic in the mundane.

[thegirlfromblackwater]

If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

Sadie

Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver

Works as a cop

Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway

eats Chick-fil-A while waiting

Watches Dateline

Carries a Taser

Always looks sexy in her uniform

Charles

Definitely lives in a cabin out west

works as a conservationist

Likes National Parks

Goes fishing with Arthur

supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)

Likes Camping

Trelawny

Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina

Lives in a large southern mansion

Wears a robe to sleep

Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories

Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes

Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley

Reverend Swanson

Probably lives in Philadelphia

Still works part-time at the church

Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions

Hosts an AA meeting three times a week

Rescues crackheads from the street

Mostly sober

Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery

Sean

Lives in Boston

Likes the university/young people vibe

works at a pub

Everyone's favorite Bartender

Makes customers laugh

goes back to Ireland once a year

Takes Karen with him sometimes

Karen

Lives in Portland, Oregon

Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper

Good Pole Dancer

Her large tits are popular amongst the men

Puts on shows in the evening

Talks to Sean a lot

Gets Hammered

Strauss

Works in Finance in New York City

Is a Workaholic

Has no friends

Goes back to Austria every few years

Boring to talk to

Always on a work call

Listens to Classical Music

Tilly

Lives in Nashville, Tennessee

Visits Marybeth a lot

Wants to be a Nurse

Likes taking care of people

Wants to travel around the world

Pearson

Lives somewhere in New England

Owns a restaurant and catering business

The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"

Probably has a wife and some kids

Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy

Is a good Butcher

Susan Grimshaw

Lives in Florida

Is a housekeeper

Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week

Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away

disgruntled

[mx-pastelwriting]

Kinktober Day 20: Glory Hole

Arthur Morgan x GN! Reader

Summary: Hearing the Vader Linde gang is in town you sit and wait knowing at least one of the gunslingers were bound to walk in.

Warnings: Smut, Public Bathroom Sex, Glory Hole, Blowjob, Mention of being payed for sexual acts

Kinktober Masterlist

Minors do not interact!

Pain engulfed your knees as they dug into the bathroom's wooden flooring, hearing as the man on the other side sighed, unbuckling his belt. The man being not so mysterious as some working girls passed around rumored the Vader Linde gang was in town, though that's all you heard from them as you worked from the back of the house.

Not being all bad, hearing some gossip that was too great to be heard up front by those girls, just like hearing the name of the man whose cock popped through the hole ready for your warm mouth.

'Arthur'

The famous wanted gunslinger Arthur Morgan.

Having heard the man named Dutch lead Arthur in, saying, "Blow off some stream in here. I will be upstairs" before leaving gunslinger in your hands and mouth.

Watching only for a second as his cock twitched before taking it into your mouth earning a breathy groan. Holding the base of his cock, keeping it steady for your tongue to wrap around softly, not daring to hum just yet in case he was too shy.

Slowly bobbing your head as Arthur's moans grew, with every bob and slurp, his caution on volume faded, allowing his rough groans to escape.

Feeling the thin wood wall between you start to shake, looking up to see his fingers poking out from the above as he began to thrust. Letting him do all the work, only humming along the shaft of his cock, mixing with the sounds of his groans and balls hitting against the wall, it all fills the small room.

Shaking the wall harder with moans growing louder told you he was close. With little warning, Arthur cums in your mouth, gasping for air as he does.

Just as quickly as it all started, it ended, quickly pulling his cock back out, not even letting you clean him up. Whispering a small "thank you" before dropping a few bucks on the floor hearing as he puts himself back together, then walks out of the bathroom and back into the Wild West.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

Kinktober Taglist: @littlebitchsposts @mrsmorgan7 @sophieissleepy @d3k4z-bl00d

@reidsbookcase @themoonwithprophets @wh0re4-alexademi @caffeine-addict3295

@supergingerlocks @laurenyas @taylorthetable @fran-soup

@raajali3 @crustyowos @fly-on-the-wall @carolb111

@thays0 @theescorpiolovechile @lokiiified @warmsideofthepillow03

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 11

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: In this episode, we're in for a team up, Greek mythology, and possibly the biggest reveal yet…

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse/torture, PTSD, violence, and another cliffhanger (sorry).

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 11: Heroes and Monsters

The only thing the TNT Twins ever bought with their money was a lavish mansion in Vermont. It was high on a hill, flanked by forest, and therefore perfectly secluded when Ben and Donna broke through the oak wood doors of their house.

“Hey, kids,” said Ben. He strolled into the living room with a smooth, purposeful gait.

The twins jumped with a start on the couch. A loud and crass action movie was playing on the screen.

“Ben,” Tessa gasped.

“Donna?!” Tommy said, pointing from Donna to Ben. “What…what’re you guys…how did you get…”

“Ooh, is that Pulp Fiction? I wanted to see that one,” Donna remarked. Her brows furrowed. “But wait, it’s still in theaters. How’d you get a VHS?”

“Oh, um, Tarantino gave me a copy as a favor, so we wouldn’t have to sit in the theater with all the mouth breathers,” Tessa said, with a wrinkle of her nose.

Tommy’s face slid into a smirk. He raised a conspiratorial hand to his mouth and pointed at his sister.

“She sucked his dick.”

That tidbit of information was accompanied by a lewd hand motion, and gagging sounds. Tessa angrily punched her brother in the shoulder.

Ben raised a brow. He made slow steps forward with an edge of menace. The twins caught on and stood up straighter, but somehow looked even more like cowards as they immediately started groveling.

“We’re so, so sorry, Ben,” Tessa tried.

“It wasn’t our idea,” Tommy added. The twins backed up near the glass doors, Tommy nearly tripping on the Persian rug.

“Of course it wasn’t,” said Ben. “You idiots barely have two brain cells to rub together.”

“Please don’t kill us,” Tessa pleaded. “Or at least, not me. I didn’t really do anything—”

“You bitch!” Tommy said incredulously.

“Shut the fuck up!” Ben snapped. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

He was stopped short by a rigorous shootout on the screen as the movie played. The sound of it was like a machine gun, bullets spraying over and over. It made his breath hitch. His eyes began to glaze over as a memory overtook his vision. Of being strapped to that metal slab, and Eisenstein and his team trying to find out what could actually hurt him, on the inside.

Ben’s chest grew impossibly hot. Distantly he heard voices calling his name.

Before he even realized what he was doing, the smell of burning filled the air, and that terrible, nuclear power escaped from his chest.

When he came to, he blinked the gaudy living room back into frame. Except now, it was burnt to a crisp. There was a large gaping hole where the French doors and most of the wall used to be, leading to a sunny day.

The TNT Twins were gone.

Shaking the fog and blackness from his mind, he turned and only saw Donna. She’d been cowering behind a piano. Slowly she came out of her hiding place with wide, horrified eyes.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” she whispered.

Instead of answering her, Ben strode out of the ruins and grabbed her arm, hefted her to her feet, and took her back to the car. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the car with shaking hands. He settled in the passenger seat and got out the cell phone he'd stashed in the dashboard compartment.

“Yeah?”

“Arthur, it’s me,” Ben said.

“How’d it go with the TNT Twins?”

“They can’t help.”

“What? Why’s that?”

“Because they’re fucking charcoal, that’s why,” Ben snapped. There was a pause on the other line.

“Okaaay,” Arthur said. “Well, I’m still working on some leads on Sirena. In the meantime, I found Gunpowder. He had a little unfortunate incident at a gun show in Texas, so he’s on some mandated R&R.”

Ben blew out a frustrated breath, but he nodded. “Where?”

“Kempton, Pennsylvania.”

Ben and Donna arrived at the Hawk Mt. Shooting Range. There were several steps up to the main building, then even more forest behind as it surrounded the base of a mountain.

“There’s literally a Hawk Mountain Sanctuary not even an hour from here. It’s like going to Sea World to hunt Shamu,” Donna groused.

“Would you shut the fuck up already?” he said. “I don’t want to hear any more of your tree-hugging bullshit.”

“That’s another thing. You’re always so fucking belittling,” she said with a glare sent his way. “Does Sirena like that about you? Or is she just deaf and blind?”

Ben grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. He raised a warning finger.

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” he said darkly. “One more smartass word and I’ll sure as shit make you regret it.”

Donna’s mouth snapped shut. She was still angry, but she had the presence of mind to avert her eyes. When he was satisfied, Ben released her. They kept walking, but no matter how he tried to shut her words out, they kept filtering back into his mind.

You’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, she won’t be able to stomach you anymore.

He managed to push that thought to the back of his mind as they entered the building. Donna either knocked out or killed the handful of staff members, while Ben continued on to the back of the shooting range.

Well then. Someone ate their fucking Wheaties.  

Gunpowder was a bit bigger since Ben last saw him. He hardly recognized his former sidekick, now a grown-ass man in his late 20s. At least he wasn’t so scrawny anymore.

And he heard the moment Ben stepped into the outdoor range. After he fired off one more birdshot, Gunpowder whipped around with a large shotgun in hand. His face fell into shock when he saw Ben.

A dead pigeon landed on the ground between them.

“Charlie,” Ben greeted, with a tilt of his head. He stalked forward. The man opposite was frozen in shock, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d pulled the trigger on his gun anyway.

“S-Soldier Boy—”

Ben ripped the weapon out of his hand. He closed a hand around the younger man’s throat and walked him back until he hit the fake mountain wall that framed the shooting range.

“Ben, he didn’t even know!” Donna said from behind.

Charlie shook his head in agreement. “I didn’t! I swear—”

“Oh, I know. But I bet you didn’t ask any fucking questions, did you?” Ben said.

He remembered that day with perfect clarity. He remembered how the rest of them turned on him.

Except for you.

“But you’re gonna make it up to me,” Ben said, with a grim smile.

Charlie was shocked, as if he’d expected a quick death. “H-How?”

“You’re going to help me find someone.”

“Who?”

“Sirena.” Ben’s lips twitched humorlessly at the ashen look on Charlie’s face. “You remember her, right? She’s the other teammate you guys sold out and giftwrapped for the fucking Commies.”

Ben slammed him harder against the wall, and his chest began to glow. Charlie’s face fell further into fear and horror.

“Ben!” Donna warned. She didn’t dare touch him, but Ben could feel her close by. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“The TNT Twins were probably useless, but we need him,” she reminded him. “We need every body we can throw at this.”

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually worked.

His hand fell back to his side, letting Charlie breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

Two weeks seemed to be an eternity in this cell. Somehow it was even more dull than when you were in Siberia. At the very least, the torture broke up the day.

Vogelbaum had taken a few vials of your blood to analyze, but otherwise, you were left alone.

Your only companion was John, who you discovered was just a ten-year-old kid. He was occupying one of the untold number of cells in this lab. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where he was, but he felt close by.

You two had been having daily conversations. He told you that he’d grown up on this compound, in the very room they held him in. He didn’t remember his parents, if he had any. He only remembered Dr. Vogelbaum, some guy named Marty, and a few others in the facility.

All of them had run experiments of their own on him. It had broken your heart to hear it from a child.

They’ve burned me a lot, he admitted once, with a sniffle. It never leaves a mark, but…it hurts.

I know, bud. I’ve been burned before, you said, disheartened for him. They wanted to find out how strong you are, huh?

Yeah, I guess. What about you?

Not very, is the answer. I’m more durable than the average human, and I heal a little faster, but…not that strong. My powers don’t really help me as much physically.

What’re your powers?

Well…I’m a siren.

You sensed his confusion. He didn’t know what that was, though he maybe didn’t want to admit it.

Have you ever seen adventure movies? You know, the ones about pirates and buried treasure? you asked.

Um, I’ve seen movies, but Vogelbaum called them documentaries.

What were they about?

Pioneers in the Wild West. The old South. How we conquered the Indians, and why America’s the best country in the world. Stuff like that.

You grimaced. So that wasthe kind of education he was getting in this place.

Okay, a lot to unpack there later, you said. But anyway, you read books, right?

Yeah. They give me a lot of books.

That, you could work with.

Okay, have you ever read The Odyssey? Greek mythology.

Y-Yeah. I remember Odysseus. He’s a hero.

Right, exactly. Well, one of the creatures he comes across on his journey are the sirens. In the story, they live on an island. They’re beautiful women, with beautiful voices. They lure sailors in with their songs and their magic, and the men fall under their spell, every time. They end up wrecking their ships and falling to their deaths.

So…the sirens are monsters.

Yeah, they are, you agreed. Your shoulders deflated with your deep sigh.

I can…compel people. If I touch them, I can make them do whatever I want. Especially men. I know when they’re lying. I know what’s in their hearts when they look at me. And I’ve used that to my advantage. To use them.

That fell between you two for a moment. You could sense John thinking, processing.

Do you like your powers? John asked.

You smiled humorlessly.

No, you answered. You’d never admitted that to anyone before. They’re meant to manipulate people, to hurt people.

I don’t want to hurt people, John said, after a beat. But…I um. I did a couple times. You know, on accident.

I’ve known people who hurt others on purpose, because they can. Because it’s fun. You don’t sound like one of those people.  

I don’t want to be. They…want me to be a hero one day.

His voice sounded small again, and almost scared. Like he was afraid of what he could do, and possibly, what Vogelbaum and Stan Edgar and everyone else wantedhim to be.

Well, that’s good. You should never hurt someone just because you can. Or even, just because someone hurt you, you advised, even knowing you were a hypocrite.

Then, an idea formed in your mind. How many times had they burned him without leaving a single mark?

Are you strong, John? you asked him.

Yeah, he replied.

For the first time since you woke up in this nightmare of a place, your smile was genuine.

How strong?

Ben claimed the master bedroom for himself. Charlie and Donna took root on the couch, catching up and reminiscing on how their careers had shaken out after Payback was dismantled. Donna mostly complained about being a permanent fixture at Voughtland.

“At least they got you set up with something stable,” Charlie said. He passed a blunt back to Donna after a long puff. “I never know where the hell I’m gonna be, week after week. Always putting me up in some piece of shit hotel.”

“At least you don’t have to take pictures with snot-nosed kids all day,” she replied, though she eyed him with a smile. Charlie caught the look, with a smile of his own.

“You look good,” he said. “I like the haircut.”

“Oh, stop.” She absently toyed with a strand of her shoulder-length hair. She’d been dying it a deeper red lately. “You really grew into that helmet though.”

He chuckled bashfully. Said helmet was resting on the coffee table, next to the big bag of weed Ben had bought on the way to Virginia. Charlie leaned closer to her and pointed a finger toward wherever their esteemed leader had fucked off to.

“He’s smoking like a chimney, even more than he used to,” Charlie said.

“He’s self-medicating,” Donna nodded. “The Russians did a number on him.”

Part of her maybe twinged with guilt, but even now, she felt justified in her decisions. It wasn’t like she could go back and change anything. Still, if she had known that it would all end up here…

“Christ,” Charlie shook his head.

They stopped their conversation when Ben’s heavy boots thudded back into the room. It seemed that he’d finished his nap, and now ventured out in search of booze. He grabbed the whiskey bottle on the dining table and a glass from the kitchen to give himself a generous pour.

“Uh, I’m thinking we could get some food,” Charlie broached. He got up from the couch. “I don’t mind grabbing something for us.”

“Sit your ass down,” Ben said sharply. He nodded at the landline phone. It sat on an accent table next to the couch. “Order something that delivers, because no one’s going any-fucking-where.”

Charlie pressed his luck one more time. “I’ll be right back, I swear—”

Ben sent him a look of warning. It was enough to make the younger man deflate in surrender.

“Pizza it is,” he said. When Ben turned to head back to his room, Charlie couldn’t help muttering, “For the third time in a row.”

Ben heard him, of course, but he just rolled his eyes. He returned to the bedroom and cracked up the radio on the nightstand. He couldn’t stand hearing any more of Donna and Charlie bickering about what to put on the pizza or what to watch on TV. In a way, it reminded him of old times.

Fuck old times, he thought. He didn’t even much enjoy them the first go around.

He set his glass down on the nightstand and laid in bed over the covers, folding his hands over his chest. He closed his eyes, but rest wouldn’t come to him. He thought of you, and where those bastards at Vought might be keeping you. He could only imagine what they were doing to you, and by now, he had a good imagination.

His jaw clenched with anger, and he drew a hand over his face in frustration.

He felt like he’d already failed.

He’d promised you that you weren’t going back to a cell, that he wouldn’t allow it…and that he’d protect you.

Believe it or not, Ben knew what he was; or more accurately, what he wasn’t. Despite how he’d propped himself up otherwise, deep down, he knew he wasn’t a hero.

But if he could make just one honest save in his long, long life, he’d be damned if it wasn’t you.

No matter how you tried to convince him, John was reluctant to try and escape his cell. You sensed that he didn’t want to leave the facility, even after everything they’d done to him.

At the end of the day, you realized, this was the only life he knew.

Look, I know you’re scared, but we can help each other, you tried to reason with him. I have a…well, I have a boyfriend. His name is Ben. I know he’s looking for me, but I’m not sure he’ll find me here. I need to get back to him before Vought tries anything else.

John didn’t answer you. You sighed. Maybe a softer approach…

What scares you most about leaving? you asked.

I don’t know! Look, just…just leave me alone!

John, wait—

I said leave. Me. ALONE!

The force of his shouted thoughts made you wince. The connection snapped back on you like a rubber band as you lost focus, giving you a stinging headache that radiated behind your eyes. You gasped and rubbed at your temples.

You felt bad for pushing him, but you really needed his help, damn it.

Just when you were about to try and reach out to John again to apologize, and hopefully soothe him, the door of your cell opened.

Vogelbaum was back with a couple of guards armed with tasers and guns. This time, the doctor had a few more empty vials.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

You pursed your lips, but you made no moves to evade him when he came over to sit beside you on your cot. He swabbed at the inside of your arm where he intended to pierce a vein with the needle he held, followed by vials one, two, three, and four of your blood.

“What are you taking my blood for, exactly?” you demanded to know. This was the second time already. “What happens after I fulfill your objective as bait, and you try to set your little trap for Ben?”

Vogelbaum glanced up at you. “We’re not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Somehow, that still didn’t make you feel any better.

“And why is that?”

“I’m taking your blood to run additional genetic tests,” he said, for the moment ignoring your question.

“Why? What genetic tests?” you pressed.

“Well, this is something we haven’t seen before. It’s going to require a closer look, and some close monitoring of your progress.”

Despite his stoic expression, you sensed a spark of interest in him, of clinical fascination. It reminded you of Dr. Eisenstein. Immediately you were set on edge. Prickles of unease crept down your spine and made you feel cold.

“What do you mean? The Russians’ experiments didn’t do much of anything,” you lied.

“I’m not talking about that,” said Vogelbaum. He finished taking your blood, removed the needle, and cleaned you up.

“Then what?” you snapped. You were losing patience and getting even more worried.

Vogelbaum applied a small bandage where he’d pricked you with the needle, then stepped away.

“Congratulations,” he said in his usual monotone, as he pocketed the vials. “You’re pregnant.”

AN: 🫣 hides until next week lol

Next Time:

We come to Payback's Avengers: Civil War moment!

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” Charlie tried. “Just let him get Sirena out of there. After what you guys did, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Ben glanced at his former sidekick. He actually seemed sincere.

Too bad Noir wasn’t about to go for it. He had Vought’s dick so far up his ass, he wouldn’t likely take a shit without Stan Edgar’s say so. He crouched into a fighting stance and unsheathed his katana. The rest of the guards poured in to flank around him and Mindstorm.

Ben rolled a crack out of his neck.

“Fine. If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll fucking get,” he said.

Noir started charging at him first, but Donna shot off a fireball in his direction.

Chaos ignited from there.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 12

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[pookietv]

encore! | arthur hill

literally got this ask like a couple hours but i had ideas for it so figured the dedication to the grind was worth it :)

been so long since i've written a smau, so i hope you enjoy! i may be slightly rusty

liked by yourinstagram, arthurtv and 7,389 others

arthurnfhill: the kill hill tour has started better than i could have ever asked for :)

georgeclarkeey: who is that sexy man on stage??

↳ arthurnfhill: can't wait for you to be my sexy groupie at the london show

username3: KILL HILL IS GONNA BE SO GOOD!!!!

username4: can't wait for manchester omg

liked by shannonlangdon, arthurnfhill and 6,093 more

yourusername: soooo what if i said i was impulsively dropping a song tomorrow night because i need to get the song off my chest and i can't wait until the supposed release date of next month ...?

it's called francis forever, and it's brought me a lot of peace to throw myself into completely making this song over the past few weeks

ANYWAYS here's a presave link if you care about that sort of thing,

hope you enjoy!

love, y/n.

jamesmarriott: we're getting SPOILED with another y/n banger

↳ yourusername: how do you know banger you haven't even heard yet ??? hmmm???

↳ jamesmarriott: you only drop bangers and thats FACTUAL

taliamar: UGH you are my icon

↳ yourusername: thats funny cause you're mine ???

username5: my heart is BREAKING at the caption

username6: omg if this is a breakup song i will do something violent.

liked by chrismd, georgeclarkeey and 7383 others

arthurnfhill: i can't believe there is only four more shows of the kill hill tour - feels like i was waiting forever for the tour to come around and now its almost done just like that!

chrismd: london show night one and two rolling around real quick

↳ arthurnfhill: missed me in the flat?

↳ chrismd: all you did before you left was mope around so not much change

arthurtv: my goat

↳ arthurnfhill: can't wait to see the number one most popular arthur on famous birthdays in person again

username7: CAN'T WAIT FOR LONDON SHOWS

username8: manchester was AMAZING omg

liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 5739 others

yourusername: as requested - my one night only london show! it was amazing to see so many of you guys there, makes this whole music thing so much more surreal :,)

username9: girl are you just gonna ignore the fact that ARTHUR AND GEORGE WERE THERE ???

↳ username10: for REAL my delusional y/nthur ass is going into OVERDRIVE

arthurnfhill: was a great night, glad i got to catch the show :)

↳ username11: oh you guys are TWISTED dropping comments like this

↳ username12: literally still in love i am not hearing any different.

bambinobecky: can i be ur biggest fan?

↳ yourusername: anyday sexy ;)

username13: the fact she scheduled it just a couple days before his london dates so arthur could make it ..... coincidence ???

liked by arthurtv, yourusername and 6290 others

mummysboypod: Mum, did you miss me on tour?

The NEW episode of Mummy's Boy is now live - with Arthur and Lisa discussing Arthur's life on tour, from crazed fans to drunken nights!

Link in bio!

liked by yourusername, arthurtv and 6380 others

arthurnfhill: i still cannot believe kill hill is over!! i will miss seeing all of you lovely people and playing you my silly songs

arthurtv: what does slay mean and why do women keep shouting it at you?

↳ arthurnfhill: because i ATE arthur

↳ arthurtv: you ate me?

username14: TOUR WAS SO INCREDIBLE!!!

username15: y/n being in the crowd was NOT. a coincidence

username16: is y/nthur back????

username17: you seemed SO much happier towards end of tour

username18: DUBLIN MISSES YOU ALREADY !!!

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurnfhill and 9374 others

yourusername: in musical terms... you could call this an encore?

username19: IMAGINE REANNOUNCING Y/NTHUR IN THE MOST ICONIC WAY POSSIBLE.

georgeclarkeey: i think everyone clocked when you were love heart eyeing him the whole concert

↳ yourusername: well you also did that and no one has realised yet?

↳ georgeclarkeey: it's MY bed he comes back to sweetie

lisahull_hill: you both have the sweetest smiles

↳ yourusername: LISA I MISSED YOU SO MUCH

↳ arthurnfhill: yourusername i believe you said 'more than i missed you by a long shot' ??