#this is about Arthur and Bella and the making of faroe but the way I worded it makes it sound like Arthur and John had unprotected sex

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

[In the prison pits]

John: You've been awfully quiet

Arthur: really shouldn't have had unprotected sex that one time

John: what

Arthur: you heard me

[fancygremlin]

A breakdown of Arthur’s breakdown.

Part 26 is stuck in my head, so I am going to talk about it.

Arthur’s breakdown of course starts off with the reveal that Larson sacrificed his daughter for power and money.

However, what really reinforces Arthur’s self-loathing are Yellow’s words;

Yellow has no qualms in throwing cruel accusations at Arthur. His intentions were clear and simple: to hurt him in the most devastating ways and where it hurts the most. However, Yellow does all that in a voice that Arthur recognises as John’s.

Ultimately, Arthur is forced to hear the voice of his only friend confirming all his worst fears and convictions. That’s what gets to him: his best friend seeing him as Arthur truly sees himself (irredeemable, rotten, a poor excuse of a human who should have died a long time ago. Someone who is trapping John, and who is forcing John to stay and put up with him).

Arthur is ao distraught that he is almost catatonic as he is carried to the mines. He is unresponsive to Yellow's insults, he has no strength to bite back to Larson's taunts. He just lets himself be dragged by Uncle.

When John finally, miraculously comes back, Arthur is quick to latch onto him. His attempts at interacting with John are however awkward and clumsy. I think that this inability to reconnect with John is because he still cannot distinguish John’s words from Yellow.

After all, if Yellow is John without his memories and without their shared experiences… doesn’t that just mean that deep down Yellow’s opinions reflect John’s in some way? Does John really think of Arthur as a self-centred person, a selfish man, a careless and cruel monster who hides behind fake acts of kindness?

To put these doubts to rest, Arthur decides to project onto John his issues. If he can prove that John is not like Yellow, he can prove to himself that he is not like Larson.

He therefore wastes no time in praising how John has improved… by cruelly comparing him to Yellow and demonising everything about Yellow… which is not right. The things he shows reluctance over were still part of who John was, those were still parts that John had to build upon to become who he is currently.

Ultimately, Arthur is involuntarily preventing John from further forming his own identity by explicitly telling him what he should and shouldn’t do, what he should and shouldn’t be. He is suddenly removing the safety and freedom that he granted John this far to figure his own identity out and is instead setting up arbitrary expectations and rules.

He is just doing to John what he did to Yellow.

These strong attempts in differentiating John and Yellow held a lot more weight, when we consider that he was projecting his own problems onto his friend. That's why he is so explosive and irritated whenever John doesn't agree with him.

He was just trying to grapple for any excuse, any proof that there is something concrete that he can use to define what makes a person good or bad. Because otherwise, there really is no difference between himself and Larson and he cannot bear to see himself in that light. He can’t accept that despite everything he did and tried to improve, deep down he’s still a cruel, heartless monster who killed his own child and went on to live.

When John didn’t give him what he wanted (instead going as far as agreeing with Yellow at one point), Arthur grew more and more anxious and restless. So, the only thing that he had left was to carve out and purge the rotten parts of himself. In any way he could.

Only then will he be a good person. Only then will the scales even. Only then he will stop seeing himself as a murderer and a poor excuse of a human.

He resolves that the only option for him is to kill the parts of himself that he doesn’t want. He decides to kill himself Uncle and make Larson pay.

Clearly these suicidal tendencies have been accompanying with him for a long time, as shown in his emotional reactions when his parents died, when Bella died and when Faroe died. His regret is also shown when he confesses he felt extreme guilt in enjoying the life he managed to build back for himself in Arkham as he was working as a PI with Parker.

Arthur just truly cannot forgive himself and his self-loathing runs so deep it’s almost a part of himself he cannot leave behind.

I like how the doubt Arthur feelings of inaptitude, guilt and self-loathing still linger even after being comforted by John at the end of Season 3:

He is unable to truly move on from his mistakes, he still feels the need to find a piece of irrefutable evidence proving he is a good person and that he can be forgiven. He needs his worries and anxieties to be put to rest.

John's forgiveness isn't enough to move on. Daniel's forgiveness was just enough to convince him he might be a good person who is truly trying to do good.

However, in Part 36, we can see that Arthur has not abandoned his self-loathing, as he still sees no wrong in wanting to kill himself killing Uncle. After Oscar reveals what happened at the orphanage he grew up in, Arthur and John have this exchange:

Arthur is tragically forever stuck waiting for Faroe's forgiveness, which he can never really obtain. She’s dead and there is nothing he can do to get her back…

[hauntedparkinglot]

Ok wait I’m not done with this. Gender in Malevolent is driving me insane.

The way that women in the narrative are so absent, that the hole is so huge you can’t help but stare into it. And I do think a lot of the gender stuff is unintentional, it’s just that the way it’s unfolding fascinates me….

I actually stopped watching the show for a full year after episode 31…. The way Arthur talked about Bella’s death upset me in a way the other visceral horror didn’t. He didn’t resent Bella, he didn’t really…. Feel anything super deep about her. He got stuck with her, she was better than him, she was an equal to him but her life and death didn’t affect him the way every other loss in his life did. He didn’t want a wife, and in the end that’s all he saw her as….

Kind of insane how he finally shows some sort of emotion for Bella in the name of mutual rebellion, she didn’t like what her dad stood for either. Arthur thought he was making a sacrifice for her and Faroe by marrying her…. But she didn’t want it either. Arthur was honour bound she was actually literally trapped. She made the sacrifice.

Everything about Bella makes me so mad. I hateeee the dead wife trope. I feel like a type of subversion was attempted but idk. When I think of this situation from her perspective it becomes a much scarier horror podcast, lol. We all know Arthur Lester is a mess, his flaws make the show. But for this one. Arty when I get u…

I actually thought Bella was gonna turn out to be a figure like Anna Stanzyck when I first started listening. Idk how to elaborate.

[miracletyrant]

Arthur Lester and living for someone else: an essay I dreamt up while I had the flu

First, some clarification: when I say living for someone else, I mean taking them into consideration in your life. It is not about catering unhealthily to them, or enslaving yourself to their whims. living for someone else is the difference between feeling love for someone and acting on it. It's about treating love as an action.

In episode 31, we learn a lot about Arthur's past. While Bella was giving birth, he said to James, "I can't live for someone else!" and he wasn't wrong. He loves Faroe, even if he didn't love Bella, but he didn't truly live for her. Don't get me wrong; he wasn't a neglectful father. He was kind to her and tried to spend time with her. Ultimately, he made few sacrifices for her, but not none.

Once she was gone and Parker had helped him restore his will to live, he found contentment. And this is the most important part; he wasn't unhappy living for himself, having no one worry about where he was or what he was doing, and having no one depend on him. He was fine.

But he wasn't thriving. Guilt and loss aside, he was living the life he would've, had he never gotten Bella pregnant. And yet, despite everything, despite knowing that he prefers a life lived just for himself, Arthur still said that the time he spent with Faroe--for Faroe, so to speak--was the happiest of his life. He didn't allocate much time to that selfless joy, the joy of telling fairy tales to his little girl, of dedicating time to her, but he was happier with her than he would've been without her. Happier carving out a piece of himself and giving it to her, sharing it with her, hollowing out a space in his world for her to be safe and loved in.

But he did cave to himself. He didn't dedicate as much to her as a father should, because he didn't want to live for someone else.

Cut to episode 20. This is a different Arthur than the man who fathered Faroe. This Arthur has lost absolutely everything, except John.

Arthur has made up his mind. He knows he can't beat the King in Yellow, but he also refuses to let him have John. He knows that John doesn't want to return to the King, and he knows John doesn't want to die. But John has no real agency over his fate, as he is trapped within Arthur. John can't fight back, and he can't run away. The only way he can be protected from those terrible fates is if Arthur puts himself aside entirely and thinks only of John.

So he does. He faces the King, knowing that he might die, knowing that he might fail, but completely unwilling to make a call that would doom John. And the King sees that. That's why, during the confrontation, he says to Arthur, "You despise me... and yet you love him."

That line. That beautiful, poignant line, spoken so contemplatively by the bloodthirsty god of madness. He seeks to understand Arthur, to manipulate him, to find his true intention, and that is what he finds. "You love him" means "You act singularly out of love for John, with his best interest at the core of your every decision."

He knows, because of this, that he has lost. So he chooses to take out his anger on Arthur instead.

It would've been easier for Arthur to give up while his bones were being broken. He was helpless to stop the torment, but he knew he had the knife. He could've killed himself once he realized that he was going to be subject to eternal torture, and it would've made sense. But he didn't. In fact, he begged John not to return to the King even while screaming in agony, even knowing that if John left, the pain would end. Because John's fate mattered more to him than his own. So long as he endured, John would live.

It wasn't until he realized that John was leaving, sacrificing everything for him, that he decided to kill himself. If John was doomed regardless, then this way, at least he would be free from the King. And if Arthur's motivation was at all unclear--perhaps he was sacrificing himself because of all the people the King would hurt once fully restored--he clarifies it later, in season 3.

"I died for you. For a fucking voice in my head, that stole my eyesight. I fucking died for that. Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

It does sound insane. But he doesn't even mention the even crazier thing he did; being willing to live for the voice in his head. To live through unfathomable agony and terror of the King's torture, just to protect John. Dying for him was his last resort, because he shares a body with him. Dying for John could only save him from something worse than death.

This means that in order to love John, Arthur has to live for him in every way possible. He has to care for himself in order to care for John. He has to do things he doesn't want to do--like maybe one day sit through a film he can't see--to care for John. Every single experience--good and bad--that he has brings John life and humanity, and every good thing he does shows John how beautiful the world can be. His patience and forgiveness helps John to grow his own sense of compassion.

The core beauty of their relationship lies within this, at least for me. Arthur Lester, a man unable to live for anyone but himself, is put in a position where everything he does has a potent effect on a lost fragment of an eldritch being. And despite what that being is, despite the bloodlust and violence of his entire existence, he slowly becomes someone so full of love and compassion that he can hardly stand to ignore a person in need. Even before growing close with Arthur, he knew compassion from his new desire to grow. He wanted Arthur to spare the wraith in season 1, because he wanted to know that monsters can be saved and redeemed. And he kept growing from there. John shed his first ever tears for an innocent animal. He looked through Arthur's cruel words in season 3 and understood that they were fueled by self-hatred, and he stuck by him and refused to let him drown in his darkest moments. He was willing to risk everything for strangers victimized by a terrible monster. He begged Arthur not to take the stone from Mr. Scratch, because in doing so, someone innocent would have to pay the price.

Of course he isn't perfect (ahem, that whole thing with Oscar), but he has been loved enough to be transformed completely. He has been loved enough to return that love, not only to Arthur, but to people he doesn't know. Because Arthur lived for him.

[women-of-malevolent]

I genuinely don’t mean this from a place of malice, and do think the podcast both has a history of handling its women characters poorly and would like if it were better in that aspect. But I don’t understand the specific criticism of the work having a running theme of “male characters uncritically sacrificing their daughters.” (Key word uncritically.)

The titular Bella episode directly forces Arthur to confront the idea that him and Larson are similar, that the callousness they showed to their loved ones is intentionally paralleled. I don’t think it’s something the story is unaware of, and I’d hesitate to argue that Arthur (or Daniel, later) is presented as being in the definitive right. (In this regard.)

I don’t think you have to love the prevalence of the concept in the narrative, but I do think some of your critique feels like you’re taking the worst interpretation you could from the story and arguing that because the characters themselves don’t actively stop the plot to condemn it (and honestly, they do sometimes) it means the actions are presented as wholly value neutral. Some of your analysis feels like you’re starting from a conclusion and working your way back.

I want to reiterate: I really enjoy most of your critiques, and it’s refreshing to have someone in the fandom both document female presence in the podcast and speak candidly about its flaws. I’d honestly love to know if/why you disagree, either with regards to intentionality or necessity of inclusion.

Hello! Thanks for writing in!

I'm not sure which post you're referencing where I said the daughter-sacrifice theme was uncritically portrayed? Because I don't think it is. The story portrays daughter-sacrifice as varying shades of terrible, graded according to intent. These less-than-ideal men keep hurting the women they should have protected.

My problem with the daughter-sacrifice theme is the same as my problem the rest of the show: it's exclusively about men. Daughters aren't people, they're glass sculptures for men to carry for 18 years, and what those men do with that piece of glass in that time tells you about the character of that man.

Who are Addison, Faroe, Emily, Samantha, Murdered Daughter Of A Senator, fuck even Sarah, if you take away the men who hurt them? Looking at just the text of Malevolent, none of the liveplay games lore or headcanons etc, there's little to nothing to these girls.

You're not invited to spend time inhabiting any woman's life like you are with Arthur (or John, to a significantly lesser extent). You can, and I do, but it feels like reading against the text because their lives are boring, horrible, difficult to parse, and they usually end in childbirth or femicide. It's fucking miserable!

The men are trapped in the same bleak, violent story, and a lot of them die graphically and onscreen, but most of them also get some combo of moments of triumph, personalities, voices, independence, quirks that narratively make that violence go down smoother. (Also smoother because there are so many fun and fascinating male characters)

Also, honestly, I don't enjoy how the theme is explored. It feels shallow and lame to me. I personally, as a listener, don't feel like this specific story has ~earned~ (in my personal, idiosyncratic, things-I-like-in-fiction, subjective assessment) exploring the horror of femicide when 1) there are zero normal, living female characters (Marie is very close, but no cigar); 2) all it seems to really say is basically… murder is bad (sometimes) (usually?) (sometimes, at least), and it's extra bad when men kill their dependent women?

Standard disclaimer that it ain't over 'til it's over, what we got is not great so far but it ain't over

Thank you again and I'd be so happy to continue this conversation if you want!

[tumb1rprincess]

Oh jeez, this nightmare went from weird to scary really fast. My stomach dropped when Kellin started describing Bella’s plaque.

“I’m not scared, I’m pissed off.” lol such an Arthur thing to say.

Oh no, Arthur’s starting to doubt John, he suspects he’s hiding something. And knowing him, he’s just going to ignore this feeling until he decides to act on it at the worst possible time.

Something something about how Faroe drowned, so anytime an entity wants to get Arthur to crack, they make it so he starts drowning and it scares him to death every time

We pretty much knew Arthur was suicidal after Faroe died, but hearing him explicitly say it felt like a punch to the gut. And he mentions his parents too and if him enjoying being untethered meant he was happy Faroe died, oh man, this is getting heavy and Arthur crying always makes me cry. And I know emotions like that are so complicated. Like, feeling any happiness after losing someone can make you feel guilty, you feel like it’s a betrayal to them and you should keep feeling sad and you think you don’t even deserve to be happy. The line “Did that mean, in some small way, I appreciated the death of my child?” is going to be playing on loop in my head for a while though. That line hit really, really hard.

Larson starts quoting the Robert Frost poem and I immediately go “Shut up.” It feels wrong hearing him say it.

Oh my god, oh my god, Arthur was at a fucking tavern and getting drunk and feeling like he wasn’t good enough for Bella or to be a dad and he was one step away from leaving and during that whole time, Bella was dying. Oh god, he wasn’t even there and Faroe was alone. Jesus Christ

Larson, if you ever say you and Arthur are the same again, I will kick you in the teeth. Go to hell

Oh god, the duck pond, Arthur saying those were the happiest times of his life, my heart, aaaaaagh.

You’re telling me that on top of Collins hunting them down, now they have Scratch to worry about? Jesus, things just got a whole lot worse.

I’ll See You In My Dreams playing at the end instead of the usual radio static? Cherry on top of this whole freaking rollercoaster of an episode. Jeez

[babygirlismpersonified]

So... Uhm.... Malevolent Pirate Au Fic. 🫶

Link, but it's also below the cut if you don't want to go to Ao3.

Arthur finished the last of his drink, setting the tankard down and pushing it towards the barkeep. He sat at the bar just waiting. Waiting for what? He didn't know. But he was waiting, drunk and depressed.

The pub Arthur sat in was shoreside, in a seedy part of the city. He knows that pirates of frequent this port, but he can't find it in himself to care for his own safety.

He's lost so much. His freedom, his wife, his daughter, his life. He'd be happy to lose everything else if it meant he finally got to rest.

Arthur Lester rested his head on the bar, sliding one of his last few coins he had reserved for this particular binge to the barkeep, gladly taking another drink to nurse until he got it in him to make his way up to the rented room he had been staying in for the past week or so.

He was running out of money, there was no way around it. He had no mind to compose since the death of his child, so his cash flow had stopped. He had sold the house, he had sold just about everything that had belonged to his Bella and his sweet Faroe.

He nursed his drink calmly as he heard the sounds of what was, without a doubt, another pirate crew making their way into this city. Grimey pub. He didn't even pay mind as a couple of the crew made their way up to the bar near him. A man that was almost certainly the captain of the crew that had trickled in sat in the stool right next to his own.

Arthur minded his business as the man ordered his own drink, and didn't even flinch as he felt the man's eyes lock onto his slouching form.

Arthur took another sip of his drink, it wasn't very good. His face is scrunched up a little bit at the unpleasant flavor until he felt a warm hand fall upon his shoulder.

"You look like you're a little worse for wear, my friend. You ever tried a blood and sand?" Arthur looked up at the well kept man with some disbelief. Getting a better look at him, Arthur realised that the man was Chinese. Not rare, exactly, but still uncommon in this area. The strange man had an armored breast plate, made of leather and metal in a scaled pattern. Arthur watched him with disbelief as the strange man ordered a drink for Arthur, paying for it himself.

"Honestly, sir, you look like you need it." The drink is set in front of him by the barkeep, and Arthur takes it in visually before he ever touches the glass. The name felt apt, the way the red and almost golden mix layered on top of one another and mixed into each other was nearly beautiful. Arthur gingerly took the drink in his hand, and tilted it up to this strange man in toast before taking a ginger sip.

It was sweet compared to the harsh swill he had been drinking before, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he set it back down onto the bar.

The stranger smiles at him, seemingly happy about his reaction to the drink.

"I really should've introduced myself," he said, a lopsided smile starting to pull his lips.

"My name is Captain Yang. But of course you can just call me Parker, my good sir."

"Namesss.. Arthur. Arthur Lester," Arthur's voice was slurred from the drinks he had throughout the day, and Parker's eyebrows knitted into slight concern before he put back on the friendly smile he had beforehand.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur. You look a little aimless, if you'll forgive me for saying." The captain let his hand slip from Arthur's shoulder to settle in between his shoulder blades, rubbing small circles at that point on his back.

Arthur tensed up. Logically he knew that it was better to not get involved with pirates, but it's not like he had much left to lose at this point anyway. Arthur swallows nervously and relaxes ever so slightly.

"Wh" -He clears his throat, it suddenly tight with nerves. "What makes... you say that?" Arthur tried to make eye contact, his sudden nerves keeping him from looking anywhere above the man's shoulders. He knew the man was studying him, he could see the shifts in Parker's face in his peripheral.

"Let's just say I've got experience with lost souls. Do you want a direction?" Arthur looks up at Parker's face again, confused.

"Huh?" Eloquent.

Parker smiles, doing his best to be comforting.

"A direction. Or rather, a place. A job, even."

Arthur's eyebrows nearly shoot off his face in surprise. A job? On a pirate ship? He didn't even know how to sail, let alone swing a sword past the very over-formal fencing lessons he had been in during his few years at university.

"Listen, Arthur." Parker leans a little closer, the comforting circled on Arthur's back disappearing in favour of him resting his arm across his shoulders.

"Don't tell anyone, but I'm soft-hearted. And I can tell you need something in your life. There's no use in me letting you rot at some pub, y'know?" His smile gets a bit warmer. "And you look like someone I can trust as part of my crew. You'll be paid accordingly, of course, but I'd like if you took the chance."

Arthur was thinking it over. Oh God, he was actually considering it. Maybe being a pirate wouldn't be all that bad, honestly. Not like he cared much for his own safety, so the danger wasn't a turn off for him, and he didn't exactly have anything waiting for him here.

Say he did agree, that he became part of a pirate crew, and sailed the Ocean blue with Parker and his crew. He'd have purpose, people to lean on, potentially people that cared for him.

And if he didn't... Well, just as Parker said, he'd probably just drink himself to death and end up rotting in a ditch somewhere.

Arthur nodded nervously. His voice still wobbly, but sure.

"Alright. I don't have anything keeping me here anyway. We can sell anything unnecessary of mine so I don't take up too much space." Parker's eyes light up, and he pulls Arthur in for a tight half-hug.

"Fantastic! I can tell you'll be great help. Me and my crew will be done getting supplies in a few days, and we'll be casting off again by Monday. Where can I get you on Sunday? We can take care of everything then." Parker was beaming, excited. It was hard to believe that such a cheerful man was a criminal, let alone one that likely had blood soaking his reputation.

"I'm staying here, actually. Upstairs room." Parkers eyes briefly flicked to the ceiling before going back to looking at Arthur.

"Fantastic. I can tell you're.... I mean this kindly, but you're pretty drunk. Do you want me to walk you up to your room? We can talk more about your future employment there. I'd just have to tell my crew, then we can go on up."

Arthur nods, taking the cocktail that Parker had bought him and taking a final large sip before flagging down the barkeep to say he was turning in for the night. He turned back to face Parker, allowing himself to be guided into a standing position, doing his best not to sway in too alarming a manner.

Once he was sure Arthur was steady, Parker darted to someone that Arthur assumed was a member of his crew, leaning close to tell then where he'd be over the din of the pub. Arthur could see the other man speaking back, and whatever it was was enough to make the Captain roll his eyes and lightly shove the shoulder of the man before walking off.

Parker slides an arm around Arthur's back, supporting him easily.

"Lead the way, Mr. Lester."

[a-mossy-amethyst]

Hi! I saw your post about needing writing prompts. Maybe one of Faroe and Arthur going to the park and Faroe making flower crowns for the both of them? Or something similar :-]

Family fluff!! We love to see it <3 I swapped it to Arthur making the flower crowns, hope that's alright

The park is rich with life, children playing and parents watching and chatting with each other. Arthur wasn't good at all the small talk, dreading the question of where his wife was. He'd rather spend time with Faroe.

The two of them walk along a wide path lined with the occaisional bench. The grass surrounding is a vibrant green and littered with white and yellow flowers, a collage of nature. Trees sprinkled around the park outstretch their branches, drinking in the afternoon sun. Leaves shake with the wind, alive with the breeze. It's a sunny day, the sky a clear blue and the summer sun blinding.

It'd been a struggle to convince Faroe to wait after lunch, the noon heat to strong for her to run around in.

Arthur crouches down, whispering in a conspiratorial voice, “Look at all those flowers, Faroe!”

Faroe giggles. “I wan',” she says, still struggling with saying ‘t’. She tugs Arthur's hand towards the field, so small within his own.

“Do you want to look at them?” he asks, knowing full well they'll be going home with a handful of handpicked flowers. They have a cup of water on the dining room table full of small flowers Faroe collects. It’s endearing, but convincing her to let him throw out flowers that have wilted is a lesson in patience and comforting tears.

She nods eagerly, slipping her hand out of his and running off the path into the soft grass. Arthur watches her inspect each flower, overwhelmed by the amount. He follows at a leisurely pace.

Faroe sits down, falling into the grass with her legs sticking out. She grabs fistfuls of grass, waiting for her father's approval on the flower patch she chose. He joins her, folding his knees underneath him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and leans in to get a proper look at the flowers.

It's a patch of daisies with dandelions scattered about, sticking out from the grass.

“They're very pretty,” he observes, hooking a daisy between his fingers and tilting the flowerhead to face them better.

Approval obtained, Faroe begins picking the bigger flowers. She grabs them in fistfuls, the grass blades surrounding victims of her picking. Arthur plucks a long daisy and tucks it behind her ear, pushing her thick hair out of the way for it to stick out.

Faroe's eyes go wide, and she reaches for the flower. Arthur gently pulls her hand away. “Leave it,” he says, “it suits you.”

She frowns, and he chuckles. “I'll lift you up in front of the mirror at home so you can see it.”

That seems to satisfy her. She returns to collecting flowers.

Arthur brushes his hand through Faroe’s hair, gently avoiding tugging on knots. He tries his best to brush them out in the mornings, but anything save of completely soaking her hair makes it difficult. Faroe inherited Bella's hair, thick waves that got frizzy in the humid air unless she put enough product to tame it.

Her hair, his eyes. Blue and clear, a piercing gaze even from a child.

Faroe stuffs a handful of flowers into his hand. “Crown,” she demands.

“What's the magic word?”

Her cheeks puff up. “Crown, p’ease.”

Arthur grins, biting down his laugh. “Of course, darling.”

Tess taught him how to make flowers crowns. She made them a few times when taking Faroe to the park, and she absolutely loved them. Arthur is grateful she took the time to teach him– the struggle is worth seeing Faroe light up.

He takes the pile of small flowers from her and lays them out in front of him. He grabs two daisies and a dandelion, noting with gratitude Faroe had been careful enough to keep the stems on the longer side. He lines them up and begins braiding, twisting the flowers together with clumsy hands.

Faroe watches him at first, leaning in and poking at the flowers braided into place. He explains the process to her in a soft voice until she gets bored and returns to playing with the grass.

The sun bears down on them, coming in waves. It isn't as bad as it was earlier, but Arthur can still feel sweat collecting at the back of his neck. He quickens his pace on finishing the crown, tucking the ends into the beginning braid.

“All done! Look, Faroe, do you like it?” Arthur says, presenting the crown to her in open palms.

Faroe smiles and claps her hands, her lips curling in and revealing a row of tiny teeth. He slips the flower crown onto her head gently. She raises her hands to her head and pats at the crown.

“Careful,” Arthur warns her, worried about the crown’s fragility. He's gotten better over the past few attempts, but he's no expert.

Faroe complies, lowering her hands. She learned her lesson after she had messed with it too much the first time and it had fallen apart. The tears had left Arthur with a bleeding heart. And a headache.

Arthur looks around and spots an empty oak tree nearby. “Let's go to the shade, okay?”

Faroe looks up at him with wide eyes. He stands and picks her up, collecting the extra flowers with one hand and holding her in the other, careful to not let the crown fall. She wraps her arms around his neck, leaning into his chest.

Arthur dreads the day she'll be too big to be carried.

He strides over to the tree, setting her down at its base where the shade is best. He settles beside her, leaning his head back against the trunk.

“Baba,” Faroe says, patting his thigh.

Arthur looks down. “Yes, darling?”

“Crown.”

He smiles. “You already have one. See?” he asks, pointing to the flowers settled neatly on her head.

She shakes her head, frowning. “Crown,” she repeats, pointing at Arthur.

He blinks. “Me?”

She nods.

“I don't need a crown, that's for you.”

This does not satisfy her, and her lips start trembling. “Crown!”

“Wh– okay, okay, a crown for me, too,” Arthur assures, holding up the remaining flowers. He huffs. “You're quite the negotiator, aren't you?”

Faroe responds with a beaming grin, knowing she's won. Her eyes turn into little cresents, nearly closed. It's the most endearing sight.

He sighs, heart melting. “Well, you're adorable, so I’ll let it slide.”

He begins to twist the flowers into a second crown, but quickly finds he doesn't have enough. “Faroe, darling, won't you fetch me more flowers?”

Faroe looks up from her massacred grass patch. Arthur decidedly ignores the pulled out blades of grass strewn all over her legs and pats her back encouragingly. “C’mon, there’s a patch over there,” he says, pointing at a collection of dandelions a few feet away, just outside of the tree’s shadow. Faroe stands up and hobbles over to them, picking the flowers and inspecting them to make sure they suit her liking. Arthur twists a few strands while he waits.

She returns with another handful, dumping them into his lap.

“Very good, Faroe! These are perfect,” he praises, patting her shoulder instead of her head to avoid damaging her flower crown.

Faroe squeals and begins tapping his arm. “Crown! Crown!” She babbles.

“Yes,” Arthur laughs, “I'm working on it. Sit down beside me, you can watch.” He picks her up and sets her down beside him, tucked into his side.

Restless, she continues tapping his arm and outer thigh while he finishes working.

“There we go!” Arthur announces. This crown is much more yellow than Faroes, only the first few flowers from the original patch daisies. The rest are large dandelions, a warm bloom of liquid gold.

Faroe cheers. She grabs the crown and tries to place it on Arthur's head. He ducks down so she can reach better, adjusting it to sit steady.

“Thank you, my lady,” he says in a posh British accent.

Faroe giggles, patting his cheek. Arthur grabs her hand, giving a kiss to the back it.

It's a beautiful day, the sun shining, the sky clear, butterflies fluttering about. Arthur sits with Faroe and enjoys the summer from the shade of an oak tree, wearing matching flower crowns.

A few boys will laugh at his accessory and a mother with her two children will compliment it and coo over Faroe. Arthur barely registers them in his memory, the moment focused fully on his daughter.

[juyuu]

John & Faroe Parallels

so, I gotta get this out of my system, lets hope I can make it coherent!

Basically I noticed that John and Faroe are similar in a lot of ways when it comes to their roles in Arthur's life.

Both kinda turned Arthur's life upside down simply by existing. Faroe because she was born, leading Daniel to pressure Arthur and Bella to get married even though they didn't have romantic feelings for each other. John because his book was sent to Arthur and Parker's address, which caused pretty much all of malevolent's plot.

Both took a dear friend from Arthur. Bella died in childbirth and John murdered Parker. The circumstances are very different of course, Faroe cannot be blamed for Bella's death, its not like she had control over being born, while John intentionally killed Parker and pinned it on Arthur. But the outcome was the same.

Both suffer from Arthur's neglect. Faroe was left alone in the hospital for a full hour after being born and later drowned because Arthur was distracted. In season 4 John starts to struggle with his memory, he is slipping away. And when in ep 38 they argue after john tried to kill Oscar, Arthur says this:

Another similarity is their connection to art through Arthur. In one episode we hear that Arthur tried teaching Faroe to play the piano and he wrote at least two pieces for her. In the dreamlands Arthur recites poetry to John and they connect over it. John later uses that poetry to bring Arthur back from the brink in season 3, similar to the way Faroe's Song always seems to ground Arthur.

Additionally a couple of interactions between Arthur and John remind me of the way a parent might interact with their child. The scene with Lilly in the dreamlands for example: to me it was reminiscent of a parent teaching their child that sometimes pets die and that's just how the world works. Or the whole debacle with Oscar where Arthur realizes that John is simply jealous. Or the things he teaches John about the work of Private Investigators.

All in all I kinda feel like his relationship with John can be interpreted as a chance for Arthur to redeem himself as a parent. He fucked up with Faroe but now he's responsible for another being that's just learning to be a person. Maybe he will do better this time around and maybe this will help lift some of that guilt

[miscreantahead]

Doing the dishes, daydreaming about my little version of malevolent bellaverse that I've been making up in my own head because I got that Bella fixation. I was thinking about how it's never sat right with me that Bella made the same mistake as Arthur with Faroe but with some other fixation because while I like the idea of her being as fallible I prefer it to be in her own ways and I feel that that particular fatal mistake was unique to Arthur's character and I'd hate to just schlep it onto Bella in an alternative universe and so as I asked the question "so what is Bella's grave mistake, the deep regret that has shaped her life since?" and the answer I got back from myself was "she killed her husband in cold blood because he accidentally killed their daughter" which kind of hit like a slap in the face but I absolutely do not hate it.

[skayafair]

I'm listening to 36 again and.

The fandom: John is a whiny jealous bitch Meanwhile, John: *praises Oscar's research and is the one encouraging Arthur to tell this pal about the masons and the book* The rebuke started only when John's previous role was threatened (from his POV).

Also who else suspects the girl in the photo was actually little Bella and not Faroe?

...I guess I see now why the other property wasn't rented. The guests wouldn't like the, uhm, neighbours. But I'm sure the barn would have been tons of fun! :D

Damn it's quite a number for Arthur to talk to 2 people simultaniously so that one of them wasn't aware of the other.

I've seen people drawing parallels between Arthur's role for Oscar as John for Arthur, and between Arthur and Oscar, but I think Oscar sees Arthur similar to that boy in the orphnage. Someone who needs help, a weird one who went through a wringer and has basically no one else, but posesses a surprising zest for life. Only Arthur is a grown man who was through a wringer and won on his own, so the dynamic is different, but I believe Oscar may be trying to make amends for that past "mistake" he blames himself for. Also another parallel is actually way more obvious and is between John and Oscar. C'mon, they both basically called Arthur their purpose (John was more reasonable and said Arthur was the one to help him find the purpose, but it's close enough), both are sort of friends who help him now, both their lives were changed drastically due to him. It's like an evil and a good twins, John being the former so far. No wonder John is that grumpy.

[lazy-toad]

What was your favourite part/ moment of malevolent 29? And what do you think will happen in the next episode?

If I said moustache Arthur would I be disowned?

In all seriousness I adored the entire vibe of the first half of the episode. The domesticity of John and Arthur's bickering over silly things that neither of them are really that upset about, the way that they are able to just sit back and relax and get upset about losing handkerchiefs, and seeing movies. Bitchy John is honestly top tier when he's bitching about trivial things.

I loved Percival, and I hope he manages to secure a better traveling partner next time. (Sorry Arthur, but sometimes being hunted makes you not exactly the best travel companion.)

The Butcher is so delightfully creepy, the realisation that he may have traveled on the roof of the train was just... Wow. The way he kept asking Arthur if he could even see him gave me goosebumps, I loved it.

Not to mention the "are you innocent" question. Obviously Collins was likely referring to Arthur killing Uncle and the creature in the mines, but Arthur has so much more blood on his hands, and so many things to feel guilty over. Eddie, Faust, the woman under the lighthouse, and obviously Faroe are just a few that come to mind right this second. I do think that Arthur is a good person (or at least he tries to be) but innocent? Well, that's a different question.

The tiny little smidgen of Daniel and Bella lore is giving me the strength to keep going, and god, every time I hear more about Daniel he sounds more and more insufferable.

I know that isn't exactly one moment, rather a handful of them, but those were the things that really stuck out to me this episode. If I had to pick one though, it would probably be Collins' "are you innocent", although it's a hard pick, as this episode had so many good ones.

As for the next episode I have no idea! Wherever we go next, The Butcher is likely to be close behind John and Arthur, which is going to be fun. The possibility of them bumping into Daniel, whether accidentally or on-purpose is going to be interesting for sure.

I do think that this next episode will likely have them arriving in New York though, which means fun times in the big city! Well, fun for us, likely significantly less fun for them. It will be interesting to see what kind of monsters and what kind of dangers lurk in the city though and I can't wait!

Overall a very good way to kick off this season, I can't wait for more 👍

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

NEVER TELL, Chapter Two - a Malevolent AU fic

Arthur discovers he wasn't wrong about his son being weird with golden eyes.

And discovers there may be a cost to caring for him.

What is the price for helping the helpless? It's not a fun thought for a self-centered man to consume.

Listen, we are getting dark. Some body horror. Also horrible non-consensual things, though not too explicit. Dark. Please heed the warnings.

AO3

---------

They sent Arthur home with two babies, a recipe for breast-milk substitute involving malt sugar and cow’s milk, and instructions for diapers that went right over his head (but fortunately someone thought to write up for him). The basket-weave baby stroller was an older model, what they could afford, and supposed to be big enough for two babies. Arthur thought it was already too small.

The whole way home, Faroe cried. She cried as if she missed her mother, as if she knew this fake family was not complete. John never made a peep, but watched Arthur, more steadily than he felt a newborn should watch, but then, what did he know? This was the closest contact he’d ever had with children of any kind.

Faroe just kept crying .

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said to her. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

John huffed.

What an odd sound to come from an infant. A frustrated sound.

“Fuck, I never even had a puppy,” Arthur muttered to no one, and did what he could to soothe her as he walked.

What he could involved making faces (which did not work), holding her (which did, but made handling the carriage too hard), and finally, singing to her.

That worked right away. Maybe Bella had been right, and they’d heard him singing in the womb. They both stared in his direction when he did that; as long as he kept singing, they stayed quiet, so Arthur sang them home.

He stopped in front of his door to search himself for his keys. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

John huffed as if to say, no shit.

“Get used to me apologizing,” Arthur said. Finally, key located, he got their creaky, paint-peeling door open, and wheeled his babies inside.

His babies . He’d thought nine months seemed like such a long time when this plan started; now it didn’t seem nearly enough to prepare for a thing like this. 

He stared at their single-family space. It had already seemed too small with just him and Bella rattling around in it. They were really good friends, and slightly less good roommates, but it would work. It would be fine. It had to.

Arthur looked at the sheet of instructions in his hand again and tried to calculate costs. They already paid $35 for their space in this triple-decker, including utilities, which was a steal. It even had its own bathroom, which was a new and neat thing. It cost about the same amount a month to feed just the two of them. Bella was brilliant and kept their clothes in good shape, so they didn’t have to buy more, but fabric was still a cost; and now this.

Now them. Now all of it. And they’d calculated, they’d budgeted, they’d figured it out, but… Bella obviously was fired once she started showing. The money she brought in now was through sewing, through word-of-mouth, and it was good, but not reliable. There wasn’t any way to predict how much work she’d get in a month.

Arthur’s job was no better. At least sugar was affordable these days. They were very lucky prices had dropped.

Maybe he should give up this music thing. Maybe it was time to stop dreaming and humming and get a real job, something with a steady paycheck. He made one, small sound of pain. To even consider that was…

He couldn’t do it. “I’m selfish, kids,” he said to them, wheeling them through the living room area (which was also the kitchen, which was just damned embarrassing). They had a Murphy bed. The pantry was bigger than the kitchen. The bathroom was just big enough for a tub and toilet. How was this going to work?

Faroe had worn herself out, and was sniffling now in a resigned sort of way.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, scooping her up. “I don’t know how to do this. But I guess you don’t know, either, huh? First time being a kid, right?”

Faroe stopped fussing. So that really was it: she wanted to be held.

His heart did a funny little jolt. He thought it might be a happy jolt. 

These two were dependent on him. That settled in a weird way. A good way. He put Faroe down and picked up John.

John, who just… watched his face.

They were dependent on him. He’d spent his whole life staying away from that kind of responsibility (from what, he’d decided in his early teens, had driven his parents to suicide), but here he was.

It wasn’t their fault, these kids. It wasn’t their fault they’d been born to a selfish man. “I’m gonna do my best for you,” he promised John, and kissed his forehead.

John wriggled.

Arthur put him down. “Heh. Wish I had more arms. I’d hold you both.”

John wriggled as best he could in his swaddling. 

“Okay.” Arthur looked at the paper. “You’ve been fed. Your diapers are fresh. They showed me you were burped, so… I guess… what do we do now? Wait?”

Faroe was fussing again. He picked her up, and she stopped. “I need to write, though,” he told her, bouncing her a little and supporting her head as he’d seen the nurse do. “I can’t do that if I’m holding you.”

John made a sound. Was it fussing? It wasn’t crying. It was a little ha of demand, somehow.

“All right, all right, you get a turn,” said Arthur, feeling a little more capable as he put Faroe down and scooped John up.

John seemed content with this.

“What am I going to do with you two?” said Arthur softly, maybe just a little fondly.

Someone knocked on the door, and he almost jumped out of his skin. “Who in hell…”

Faroe cried. Arthur put John next to her and answered the door.

“You forgot to pick up your milk today,” said Daniel with great disapproval, and held out the sealed jug.

For the first time all day, Arthur genuinely hoped the smell of what he’d drunk had faded. “Daniel! You came!” That two-cent phone call had been worth it.

“I was late,” said Daniel, who, for all his many flaws, at least never denied he had them. ��May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” said Arthur, reminding himself that Daniel had seen the place before, and had never drawn a parallel between it and his own fancy brownstone in New York, and had never directly done anything to make Arthur feel like he was failing as a man, o r that Arthur himself had done anything wrong.

Which he hadn’t. (Except according to society, sociology, the church—)

“Thank you.” Daniel wafted in, smelling of expensive tobacco, and paused taking off his coat. “She didn’t come home with you?”

“She… she’s in the hospital,” said Arthur. “She bled badly. Almost didn’t make it. She can’t come home yet.”

It was always strange to see real emotion cross that vaguely angry face. Arthur had decided three months ago that Daniel maybe wasn’t actually angry; that like a hound dog, his face just did that . Whether that was true or not, the concern there was deeply real. “St. Mary’s?”

“Yes.” The coat went back on; it hadn’t even made it past one freed arm. “Don’t you want to meet them?” said Arthur.

On cue, Faroe squealed. It was the sweetest sound Arthur had ever heard; so happy, so… free.

“Yes, of course, I… of course.” Daniel hurried over. “Oh…”

Arthur came at a slower pace.

Faroe was… well, she was being winning . Wriggling, smiling, one mittened hand against her dimpled cheek,  squealing again as if to say hello.

John was just looking at Daniel.

At least, Arthur told himself, John’s blue eyes matched Faroe’s. What the hell had that gold thing even been?

Daniel’s voice was tight. “They’re beautiful.”

“Do you want to hold them? The diapers are clean, and all.”

“I will go see my daughter first,” said Daniel with dire condemnation (or, Arthur hoped, he just sounded like that). “I’ll return here after.”

Visions of the two of them sharing the Murphy bed briefly made Arthur insane. “What? Here? Now?” He reddened in response to Daniel’s (possibly) chiding look. “I mean, it’s a long trip back to New York, and…”

“I’ve taken a hotel.” Daniel’s tone was wry. “Do you feel particularly prepared to handle two infants alone?”

“No, not particularly,” Arthur said, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ll be back later. Bella has not been an infant for a long time, but I remember some things.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Arthur knew he was being ungracious. “And thanks for picking up the milk. I forgot.”

“On a day like this, I wonder why?” said Daniel, and headed out. “I’ll see you soon.”

Arthur sighed and flopped into one of their two chairs.

Unable to see him, Faroe began to cry. 

Arthur stood and picked her up, then sat again, and pulled the carriage closer so he could rest a hand on John. “I don’t know how to do this,” he told them again. “But that’s not your fault, is it? None of it is. You didn’t ask to be born. We did that. I’m going to do my best for you. I promise.”

John’s head was turned to him. His little face was so grim, but then he did an amazing thing: he reached, and wrapped one tiny hand around Arthur’s index finger.

Arthur stared, mouth open.

Faroe finally fell asleep in his arm, but Arthur didn’t move to put her back. “Guess that’s a deal, huh?” he murmured to John, moving his finger just a little as if shaking hands. “You’ll be the best babies you can be, and I’ll be the best dad I can be.”

John said, “Ah.”

Arthur smiled weakly. “We’ll get through this. It’ll be worth it. I swear to God, it will.”

John huffed again as if to find that oath dubious.

“All right, fine. I swear on my piano.”

That appeared to be acceptable to the four-hour-old child, who huffed, wriggled, and settled down.

Arthur was so godsdamned tired. Maybe it was all right to just sit for a minute. Maybe things would be okay.

#

The dream was a weird one.

Arthur played in his favorite speakeasy. The men here were always ready for a good time, and usually closer to his age than some underground places. The air was blue from smoke and bad ventilation; the low hum of conversation caressed his skin with promise, with anticipation for stress relief, and he couldn’t wait to finish his set and mingle a little (or a lot) before going home.

But something was off. Arthur couldn’t see anyone off-stage. It wasn’t like he could normally make out faces while he played, but there were always shapes—man-shapes, tables, candles on those tables. Servers moving around. 

Tonight, there was only one shape. A single table, with a single male form, sitting there and watching him play.

Well, dream-logic said that guy mattered, then, so Arthur played to him.

Played with slow, crooning passion, played sensual jazz and smoky sounds. The beat he’d picked, the pulse, was fully intentional, a biological rhythm, referencing the easy and steady movement of bodies joining as one.

He played sex, and he hummed it, too, and he aimed it all at that lone table.

There was applause when his set finished. (There always was.) He grinned crookedly at the hands he could not see, and finally descended from the stage. There were people out there, logically; he knew there had to be—but he couldn’t see them, couldn’t feel them. Could only hear them, laughing and conversating beyond his view.

He reached that lone table.

The guy who sat there was white, attractive in a symmetrical way. Brown hair, medium-length, just long enough to look deliciously mussed. Skin that saw enough sun to avoid being pasty. The black suit was mid-range, not crazy expensive, but not daily worker poor, either. 

Arthur couldn’t figure him out. If he was a cop. If he was here for the purpose of this place. If he was safe.

“Aw, I’m not that scary, am I?” said the guy, and grinned. “Sit. Down.”

Arthur sat without meaning to do it at all.

He went stiff. What had just happened?

“You know, you’re not who I thought he’d pick?” said the guy, leaning in, and Arthur blinked, and  Arthur shook his head, because for one fucking second it looked like this guy was covered in blood, but he was not, he was not—“I thought he’d pick the dame, but he picked you. This might’a not been his smartest move, you know? But I guess having a baby brain will do that to a guy. Phenomenal cosmic powers… iiiitty bitty living space!” And the guy cracked up.

This… was it a dream? Arthur was no longer sure. “I… I think I’ve got to go.”

“Aww, and after you tried to seduce me and everything?” The guy clamped down on Arthur’s arm, and it felt like a vice, it felt like a metal cuff, it felt bad. “No, no, no. Not until we’re done. Cute, by the way. That was good stuff. Very catchy.”

“Catchy?” said Arthur, trying to wake up, trying to pull away, trying, again, to wake up .

“Catchy! An ear worm. It sticks in your head, drives itself in. Though I gotta say, Artie, as someone who’s had firsthand experience with real ear worms, it’s an unfair name. Ear worms writhe; they dig deep into the ear canal.” He moaned, and it was the most indecent sound Arthur had ever heard, and his body reacted even as his hindbrain said, RUN . “Biting and gnawing at the flesh… they’re near impossible to get out. It’s enough to drive someone mad!”

Arthur was turned on. Arthur was horrified.

“Mark you down as scared and horny, huh? Sure, sure, I get it,” said the guy.

“Let go,” said Arthur with more confidence than he felt. “This is a good establishment. You can’t just… it’s gotta be consensual.”

“Oh, is it, Artie? Is it? Because it sure seems to me that I can do whatever I want to you right now, and nobody’s gonna say boo .” And his fingers bit in.

Bit in, pierced the flesh, chomped right down to Arthur’s bone.

He screamed. Pulled back, or tried, but got nowhere. 

Blood spilled over the table, sprayed on the candle. Poured out with such force and such volume that part of him knew this couldn’t be real, except he felt it , felt himself deflating, felt like he was going flat as his blood began to rise on the floor.

He whimpered.

“Oh! Oh, that’s a pretty nice sound. Huh. I like that,” said the monster.

“Let go!” cried Arthur, and for reasons he could not possibly understand, tried the weirdest volley ever: “I’m a father!”

The guy did let go. And started to laugh.

The laugh was worse. Worse than the biting grip, worse than the feeling of deflating , worse than all of this had been, and as Arthur tried to crawl away (shocked at how warm his own blood was, splashing up his limbs), the laugh followed like a knife, pounded into the ground on either side of him.

He was suddenly flung to his back, and the guy was right over him, pinning him down. “He picked you , buddy. That makes you fair game.”

“What?” said Arthur, afraid he was going to drown in his own blood. It tickled his chin, rose toward his cheeks, glopped and stuck and sloshed as he tried to get free.

The guy grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close. “Listen up, Artie,” he said, low. “I don’t repeat things, so this is the only time you’re going to hear it: dump the boy.”

Arthur stared at him. Stared, mind stalled silent.

“If you do, this all goes away. We don’t look for you. Nobody bothers you. You live your stupid, human life, short and pitiful, and maybe you make the tiniest ripple, but more likely, you don’t. But we leave you alone. If you don’t dump him…”

And the guy kissed him. Hard. 

It hurt. It was fucking incredible. It was devouring, demanding, brooking no quarter, giving no choice , and Arthur struggled to break away from it and pull the guy toward him at the same time, smearing blood all over the guy’s hair and suit.

The guy broke the kiss, panting, and his eyes glowed fucking red. “Keep the kid, and you will suffer. Oh… oh! You will suffer , more than you knew a living person could. There will be no respite. No safe place. No one to pray to. Keep that boy, and every last second of your life will be spent cursing the day you spurned my favor.”

Arthur gasped, erection hard, heart pounding, trying fruitlessly to get away, unable to pull out of this guy’s iron grip. “Favor?”

“I warned you.” The guy grinned. “That’s how good you played. You earned a warning. ”

Arthur stared at him.

“Ciao,” said the guy.

And Arthur woke up.

Woke with a start, woke with a gasp, woke realizing almost too late that he had a baby girl in his arms, and he kept her, didn’t drop her, but she startled awake at his sudden movement, and the sour odor told him she needed her diaper changed.

Faroe bawled. She’d gotten scared. 

He held her close, standing, walking, willing his erection to go down, willing his stomach not to upchuck, willing himself (without effect) to understand what just happened and to know it was not real.

“I’ve got you, baby girl, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, pacing with her, and glanced over at his son.

John stared at him, face long with fear. He was so still. Frozen. Hands unmoving, no wriggling. And his eyes were solid gold.

Arthur did not need to see a pupil to know that John was staring at him.

He paced, holding Faroe, bouncing her a little, trying to calm her down, but his gaze stayed on John.

This… this moment.

This moment felt bigger than any he’d ever faced in his life, and he didn’t even know why.

It was a dream . A fucking stupid dream , meaningless, born of stress and living a life of lies, nothing more than that.

John’s golden eyes watched him, and his baby’s breath came fast, tiny nostrils flaring.

Faroe had mostly quieted. Arthur kissed her forehead. “Sweetie. I need to deal with your brother right now. Okay?”

She was fucking six hours old and couldn’t possibly understand him, but she did , and sniffled, sort of bapping his cheek with one mittened hand.

He placed her in the carriage and picked up his son.

John was stiff as a board. Scared. So terrified.

That was okay. Arthur was, too.

He didn’t pace. He held John, looking at him. So warm. So solid. So real. “I had a weird dream, kid,” he said.

John’s already short breathing picked up.

“You know that, don’t you? Or you know… you know something happened.”

John whined.

On instinct, Arthur walked to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and discovered his lips looked bruised.

Red. Swollen. Like someone had fucked the hell out of his face.

This did not feel good. He took a slow breath and looked at John.

John was still. John was golden-eyed. John was… helpless. Whatever else was happening here, whatever fucked-up weirdness was going on… John was helpless.

Arthur had been helpless in his life. It wasn’t a good place to be. “You’re scared, huh?” he said softly. “Whatever just… whatever I dreamed, it’s got some effect in the real world. That guy wants me to just leave you outside to die, or something.”

John was beginning to cry, but not like a baby. Tears welled in his eyes, sliding down cherubic and rosy cheeks, but he did not make a sound.

John was helpless.

Arthur had been helpless. After his parents died. When he’d been handed from person to person, and finally over to horrifyingly abusive people, against whom he’d had no quarter, no way to say no , no guardian to hide behind.

Arthur hated that helplessness , more than he feared the guy and the blood and the pain. Far more.

“I’ve got  you, John,” he said, low, and it was a vow. “I won’t toss you out. I don’t know what that guy was saying. I don’t know what’s in store. But I won’t…” he had to swallow. “I will not leave you helpless like I was. Okay? This… this queer guy has you. I don’t have power.  I'm living a lie, and it's all... it's all bad. But whatever I have, it’s yours. I won’t leave you helpless and alone.”

John’s tears kept coming, but they changed. He gripped Arthur’s finger again, tight in one minuscule hand, and his eyes went back to blue.

Whatever this deal was, it had been accepted.

Arthur didn’t know what this deal was. He knew he’d pissed off that guy. And maybe… that was it. Tonight, when he slept, it would be over.

If it was, Arthur understood he would die with the knowledge he’d been true to himself, and what other way to be was there, really? 

He kissed John’s head. “Don’t know much,” he said. “But I know your sister needs a change. Okay?”

“Ah,” said John.

Arthur put him down and got to work learning how to give a newborn a brand-new diaper, and clean up the mess he found inside.

Somehow, that seemed the perfect metaphor for this entire day.

[catsaurofmagiccomedy]

I got a little to silly last night and wrote a veritable essay underneath this post here, I decided to make it its own post,, everyone give it up for this little guy about how the Fears from tma would interact with our punching bag of a little guy Arthur Malevolent:

First: Dual avatar of the hunt & stranger.

hunt: He's always chasing something. Whenever he's up and awake he's moving towards something and when he finishes? He INMIDEATELY starts chasing something else he's could be defined like the hunt ritual: “The Everchase” never stopping, always something else to get to.

stranger: He's so uncanny. He's always talking to himself, he always looks at you slightly off, every person that encounters him casually ends up seeing something strange about him! All of those chats w John while in cabs? You can bet the drivers were creeped right the fuck off about him! And that definetly feeds the stranger.

Second: The eye and the web “are fond” of him.

web: He's so good at manipulating people! If he wasn't so insistent on pursing people & goals like he does, he definetly would've been snatched as a web avatar! (Similar to what happened to martin) I don't think he could voluntarily be an avatar of it simply bc he would refuse to be puppettered by the mother and all of her avatars are, he prefers to resolve his problems by chasing & violence (sidenote: not a slaughter avatar bc his violence is NOT sudden and spontaneous nor is it unmotivated or unpredictable)

eye: I mean? Our boy is SET on adquiring some knowledge even if it could potentially or definetly hurt him or even those around him! What's more eye than that? (that was literally what led Jon to fully become The Archivist, if Arthur's eyes were still his own he would've been an eye avatar for sure)

Third: Victim of the dark, the desolation, obvs touched by the spiral & the end, maybe the buried, the corruption, the slaughter and the flesh

dark: He does no longer have his eyes, all he can see is darkness and he hates it! It would be so easy for him to get fed to the dark, especially bc he KNOWS there are monsters that go bump in the dark and people out to get him his fears are not a “maybe” they are a “when”.

desolation: my man has been taking L after L, I mean He keeps having one devastating loss after another (this is before even getting fully into canon, pre-canon + part 1), he barely has the time to get all of his pieces and glue them back together before another tragedy or accident decks him in the face (his parents, then bella, then faroe, then parker), his life is loss and recovering from it, only to get pushed back into it the second he is even remotely back up and his persons lead me to:

corruption: His relationships man, they are a lil messed up! He could so so easily get consumed by what loves him and tells him he's a home. His parents can't love him anymore, they're dead. Bella never loved him, he never loved her they only married bc she was pregnant! He loved Faroe so so much, but he lost her because of his own actions. And Parker got him out of the (metaphorical) pit he was in, he clung to him as a life boat & he was still alive bc of Parker and Parker alone at that point. He's also dead. Now he has John; they bicker and they tear eachother apart, they hurt the other so deeply but they cant separate because the alternative is so much worse (even if John got a body they would still be so codependent of each other; their souls are interwined after all). You could argue he's already a home for what loves him. After all isn't he a home for John?

buried: man has been thru: 1) a loveless marriage; 2) the pit (non-metaphorical) (Probably also financial problems lbr, he was a compositor, i don't think they payed him much for his services, but I don't know shit abt it so mountain of salt on this one). I would not be surprised if all of his life he felt trapped in some way or another.

slaughter: I believe that after every gory and bloody thing he has gone through he has gained a mark by percistence, also his deal with Kayne would deninetly leave him a mark if he didn't have one up until that point (bc Kayne is without a doubt an agent of the slaughter, idk if an avatar or a manifestation distortion style but that mf is Slaughter through and through), he definely feeds the slaughter with his fear, at this point he expects violence at every turning point.

flesh: man. So, the cannibalism, huh? The losing parts of himself, eh? Maybe the second one is a lil bit flimsy but by god the cannibalism, at what point did he started seeing Mr. Faust as meat, do you think before or after killing him? I mean, we know he was starving, would it really take much to believe that he had already decided on eating him while he was still alive? Also, man, his body has gotten so fucked up, I don't really have a point with this last part just, he's really been thru the grinder.

spiral: He's been thru the horrors, he has had two different pieces of a god of madness inside him and is currently using one of them as his concience and better half, I don't believe much explanation is required here.

end: Our pathetic little guy has been dead! That is enough for a Terminus mark but he has gone to great efforts for his mark to be constantly renewed! He has: Died fr (And got brought back)! Almost died, resulting in a coma! He gets on a good streak of not getting to the "by the skin of his teeth" side of surviving during the dreamlands arc, surprisingly (he was in peril but not on the "How tf are you still alive" scale), until the near end, where he: almost died by cutting his throat as a last resort to try and save John! And then he almost died again! He was saved tho! So I feel confident on him being touched by the end, he is however not an avatar as avatars of terminus have accepted their eventual deaths and are significantly less proactive than Arthur, they much rather wait, after all It Comes For All!

So John, eh? Might as well. Some bonuses:

Fourth: Dual avatar of the eye and the spiral.

eye: He's Arthur's eyes! He's not only doomed by the narrative and an unreliable narrator, he's the narrative itself! We know what he tells us, he feeds us and Arthur their surroundings, he is the one that manages the knowledge, we don't know things he chooses not to tell us (be it out of hidding them or out of thinking them irrelevant, the result at the end is similar enough)! John is fundamentally entretwained with knowledge, the concept of eyes and he definetly sees and has to describe horrible things he would much rather prefer not to. Also him seeing the death when he touches a corpse? Absolutely goes in the "avatar of the beholding" evidence pile, additionally Arthur is quite lacking privacy due to John's precence! That is in fact another mark for the tally!

spiral: Bby boy is a fragment of a god of madness! That alone would qualifies him! But he is also responsible for Arthur's perception of reality, that is a big, big spiral thing! To be the lens through which a person perceives things is kind of a thing for this Fear, as are eldrich incomprehensible entities (like he is) and his behavior at the very beginning (manipulating Arthur by pretending to be his friend and having his best interests in mind [you may think that this is a web thing, it is in fact a certified spiral avatar behavior as demostrated by Helen Distortion on the 5th season!]).

Fifth: Victim of the dark and the web, touched by the slaughter and just a tinsy little bit by both the desolation and the lonely.

dark: His time on the dark world has fucked him up, Big time! Our boy would love night lights! He is always afraid of going back there and thus is afraid of the dark in general, Arthur's coma was awful for him! You better believe he is always giving th dark fear snacks!

web: He barely has bodily autonomy, his decitions and opinions can be at any moment be ignored with minimal consecuences if Arthur so decided, he has no choice but go along with whatever Arthur ultimatly decides (while this may also sound like the buried, it is my belief that: No, Thanks! Okay for real now I feel like the buried is less about choices than the web is, in the buried you do not get the courtesy of your choices being ignored you are never, from the start, allowed to even make one, because the situation you are in is one out of your control, meanwhile in the web your choices are taken into account and ignored, used to further harm you or used to subtely guide you towards the desired outcome), John is, in this, very similar to how the kids on Hilltop Road were, he has to go through the motions of whatever that which is guiding him wants, unable to truly affect things past a certain point.

slaughter: Dear Johny boy has this mak for all the same reasons that Arthur does, plus all the pre-Arthur atrocities he has assured us he commited!

desolation+lonely combo wombo: So, what do you think happens when you are an entity that only one person hears in their head when you lose that person? You are now a meal combo for the one alone and the torturing flame to share, of course! With no one with whom to share your hurt with you are alone, you devastatingly have lost the only person you have. You are alone and desolate. So I think it's not a strech to understand why the month of the coma was shit for John, now, imagine if it happened now!

Resume time!

Arthur is an avatar of the hunt & the stranger, he is favored by the web & the eye. He is a victim for the dark & the desolation and has been marked by: the corruption, the buried, the flesh, the slaughter, the spiral & the end. He has a [12/14] and could be starting the next successful Everchase or Unknowing if he gets marked by: the lonely & the vast! (That's worring especially given that the lonely one is just a disappeared or amnesiac John away and the vast one is just a matter of time given the eldrich monstrosities).

John in an avatar of the eye & the spiral, a victim for the dark & the web and has been marked by: the slaughter & the devastation + the lonely combo. He has just half with a [7/14] and could start the next successful Watcher's Crown or Great Twisting if he gets marked by: the buried, the corruption, the end, the flesh, the hunt, the stranger & the vast! (This situation can be neglected! He is not going to get all of them exceedingly quickly, nothing to worry right now as there is nothing out of the ordinary for someone in his situation! [surrounded by the horrors while having once been part of a horror yourself]).

[organchordsandlightning]

shit okay so i've finished the lighthouse series finally and i love your characterisation of faroe in it so deeply. wanted to ask - thoughts on what a teenaged faroe would be like? having to interact with normal people and realising how fucking weird her family is, and whatever she remembers of her childhood. she's such a delight and she's such a menace. i wanna know what she'd be like when she's a little older

ohhh, i’m glad you enjoyed and you have absolutely activated my ‘can’t shut up’ trap card! teenage faroe HCs under cut

so I think my big HC for teenage faroe is that she gets really into painting as her preferred mode of art. I like to think arthur did teach her piano, and she likes it well enough, but it didn’t have the same emotional attachment arthur had for it. 

nobody can say exactly why this comes about, but john almost reverently describing every piece of art she made as a toddler/child to arthur probably had something to do with it. i also like to think that faroe’s brief time in the Dark World, and especially under the influence of Arthur-Wearing-John’s-Old-Yellow-Robe, has affected her, just a bit - just in that her dreams are a little more vivid, a little more memorable, and little more Out There (leading to John having a small breakdown one day when teenage faroe draws a stunningly good representation of Carcosa, right down to the throne room). she prefers landscapes in general, but the family portrait hanging in arthur and john’s house was definitely painted by Faroe for Arthur’s birthday.

as for personality! I think Faroe is definitely a ‘see an injured baby bird, bring it home’ type of person - and she definitely keeps the curiosity that she inherited from her father. while it was less worrying when she rarely went anywhere without holding onto someone hand, it definitely became more worrying when the adults stopped walking her to school every day. I really love the idea of Faroe’s investigative spirit starting with ‘I’m going to crack the case of The Missing Cookie so I can be a detective just like Daddy’ to ‘ope Faroe’s coming home close to midnight because she was helping a classmate look for a lost cat’. with three detectives in her immediate family, it’s never that hard to find her in Arkham, but doesn’t stop Arthur and John especially from being scared to death. they taught Faroe occult symbols at a pretty young age and Faroe always understood that that was the one thing they would not let her fuck around with. 

(I was also so close to including the idea that Arthur gets a seeing eye dog when Faroe is still a child, who Faroe names Goldie. Faroe takes to Goldie so much that they get a second dog just for her [’sweetie, I know you’re having fun playing with Goldie but Goldie has to work now’] - a little white Westie named Bones. this is 100% the adorable animal mascot Faroe investigates with.)

relatedly, I think everyone struggled a lot with Faroe’s growing independence, especially with how close her family is. like, I don’t think Faroe ever had a rebellious phase per se (that is, she was never like ‘fuck you dad I don’t play by your rules’), but she definitely leaned more into ... ‘I Know This Is The Right Thing To Do Why Are You Telling Me I Can’t Do This Because I’m A Child’, which is a lot more frustrating all around.

(still, parker remembers the last time he was called ‘Uncle Bark’ and shifted to only ‘Uncle Parker’ [except when she’s scared or upset].)

i think Faroe might have had a brief period where she became acutely aware (in the way that teenagers are) that her home life is Not The Norm (i used to joke that Faroe, as a child, would say ‘sometimes I stay with Daddy and Mr. John, who kiss, and sometimes I stay with Mama and Uncle Bark, who don’t’). while I don’t think that she ever got badly teased about it [everyone likes Bella, the lady who makes all the costumes for school plays, and everyone likes Mr. Yang, the guy who cheers all the kids on at the baseball game, and everyone is moderately lukewarm on Mr.s Lester and Doe who look kind of pissy but generally mean well], I think the first time Faroe tried to underplay her home situation (maybe she implied Bella and Arthur were married, maybe she pretended like Mr. John wasn’t her dad, per se), John -- unable to hide the emotions on his face  -- looked so fucking sad that even Faroe, at 14 years old, was like awwwwwww shit I can’t do that again. Overall though, I do think Faroe borders on being pretty popular among her class. She’s involved in a lot of stuff, Bella handmakes her clothes, and more than a few students in the school have had their family’s cases solved by the Lester/Doe/Yang partnership.

 as for what Faroe remembers, I would think (other than her dreams)  she doesn’t remember much of her time in the Dark World, or being dead. She doesn’t like swimming much, but that’s more along the lines of Arthur being too anxious to teach her as a child, and thus Faroe learning a little later in life. She remembers a happy home - though the duos lived separately, she remembers them being together so often that it seemed like they all lived together.  If she had an emotional problem, she’s more inclined to go to her mother (who sometimes talks to her as if she’s a fellow classmate, and not her daughter) or Mr. John (who seems to get things in ways that Parker and Arthur can’t). If she needs something done, it’s Parker (who seems to know every person in Arkham) or her father (who would move heaven and earth for her, in a way that makes Faroe a liiiiiiiitttle scared to ever have kids. Arthur, god bless, is a little intense).

however, I do think the truth comes out around the time when Faroe is a teenager. Faroe was aware for a while of things not seeming right: her father’s acutely visible scars and bright amber eyes, for one thing. Still, I think they didn’t want to tell her as a child, and she was easily enough distracted from any questions whenever she asked.

It’s only when she becomes a teenager that it starts to become unavoidable. For one thing, she finds Parker Yang’s obituary in a newspaper at the library. She reads the term ‘John Doe’ in a book and, uh-oh, that seems a little weird. And, um. What are all these ‘Police Searching For Arthur Lester, supposed murderer of Parker Yang’ news clippings in the library? And, hang on, if her mother is fifteen years younger than Arthur, then why do they have so many stories of growing up together?

and I think, at some point, they sit her down and tell her all of it. Not the nitty gritty details, not how Arthur got all his scars, but enough for Faroe to realize that most of her family - including herself - was dead, at one point. Enough for Faroe to realize that, oops, one of her dads used to be a god, and maybe her dreams aren’t just dreams.

and of course it’s a lot to take in, and there’s a couple of weeks where Faroe’s basically sleepwalking through life, but her family helps her through it. I think at the end of the day, the thing that helps her most is the thing that her Uncle Parker told her (and the same thing Parker told Arthur, way back when Arthur lost his memory): that no matter how the story went, she was safe and loved, and she had a lot of people making sure she always would be.

thanks for asking!

[wrongfulnoodle3120]

Right. Sorry, but I really don’t agree with you on this one. In regards to bodily autonomy and choice, both John and Arthur have a lot less of it than people who aren’t sharing a body would have. While Arthur still controls most of their body, and with it their actions, John controls all the visual input on which he bases his decisions. He doesn’t lie during this all that often (that we know of) but he does do it. John gives Arthur all the information he has to work from, while Arthur has no way to verify but has to trust him. Even in the beginning, when John (friend) isn’t all that trustworthy. He completely intends to use Arthur for his own goals and to use him as a tool. By killing Parker he forces Arthur to rely on him for sight, and to leave his life in Arkham behind. It’s either working together or getting imprisoned for a murder he didn’t commit. They both use each other as tools before they learn to care. While John and Arthur can move on into respecting each others needs on an emotional level, Arthur is still physically disabled and has to continue to „use“ John as his seeing-eye entity. Their very situation makes them horribly codependent. Arthur justifiably feels like his body is being taken away from him, and while John isn’t doing it on purpose, he‘s getting control. Losing control of ones body is horrific enough, without it being given to someone else. It is only natural that Arthur would harbour some resentment towards John for that initially, especially since John tries to leverage it for control („I have your eyes“). Their situation in general often leaves them with no one but each other to blame, which is fair to neither of them. They aren’t perfect, of course they lash out, of course they draw untenable lines in the sand. Their situation would be bad enough, even if they weren’t being constantly hunted, and consequently hurt, frustrated and on edge. Not really an environment all that conducive to team building, when each feel that they would be more competent, effective and free with complete control. In regards to his relationships, Arthur never being „taught“ how to properly treat people he cares about has the fucked up implications of blaming him gor losing his parents early. Neither Bella nor him wanted marriage, it didn’t feel right for either of them, and they were forced into it by the standards of their time and Daniel. It wasn’t that she loved him and he ran out on her, it was a shit situation all around, in which he had doubts and made mistakes, like a human being is wont to do. It landed him in a position as a single father which he wasn’t prepared or qualified for. Faroes death was an accident none the less, yes, he blames himself, yes, he is partially to blame, but he isn’t a monster for making a mistake, even if he sees himself as one. Her death is, first of all, a tragedy, and blaming and condemning him because of it is cruel, especially since he takes full ownership. Neither Arthur nor John are „wonderful“ or „toxic“ or perfect, they are flawed people in a bad situation growing and surviving together, and learning to accommodate each others needs better in the process. They are both multilayered individuals, and painting one of them as the clear villain only serves to flatten the story. Is Arthur horrible to John sometimes? Absolutely. Is he disregarding of Johns feelings a lot? Sure, a whole bunch before season 4. Its massively fucked up, given their dynamic is shifting toward parent/child territories, but neither of them chose this. Their relationship itself could be described as toxic, due to their codependency, I suppose.

I don't think we as a fandom are appreciating how wonderful John is, nor acknowledging how toxic Arthur is. Like, Arthur rarely ever asks how John feels about a situation, and even if he does they almost always do what Arthur wanted in the first place. I know that John says that it is always Arthur John's choice but??? John has never had any sort of friendship before?

I just wonder if John realises how much he is being taken advantage of. And I wonder if Arthur even realises how badly he is treating John because I feel like, based on how he acted with Bella, Faroe, and John, he wasn't taught how to properly treat people he cares about. I get that Arthur gets better after all the stuff in Bedrock but still, I am getting really sad about John right now because he is being treated as pretty much a tool to Arthur.

Idk, these are just my thoughts about them. I'm not sure if I am forgetting stuff in canon that strongly contradicts this (I know there are small things but not enough to really change my opinion on this) but I have big feelings rn about it