#Sponsored by Arthur and John

[violetwanderer]

This has probably been done before but it's all I can think about when I enter camp

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #hosea matthews #Sponsored by Arthur and John #But also me

[sentanixiv]

The Donkey & The Ass (Rated T; alcohol)

Written to the advent calendar prompts of: - New horse, but it's a donkey - Lost and Found & "Care to explain how you ended up here in nothing but a union suit?"

- Sean encounters a very drunk Arthur Morgan riding into camp with a new friend, of sorts. Thank or curse @emmithar-blog and @danger-r-98-5 for the beautiful prompts they put into my advent. I adore them. 💕

Well if it weren't the most hootin' hollerin' hilarious thing that'd been seen in ages.

Right proper thing would've been offering a hand, a hat, or something of dignity, but Sean took pride in being anything but proper, so it was his hootin' and hollerin' that roused up camp the early hours of the morning.

And what inspired his being found all but rolling on the ground, holding his stomach because he were at real risk of laughing his breakfast up and out? The sight of Arthur bloody Morgan riding into camp, drunker than any skunk, half-fallen off a god-blessed donkey of all things, and wearing nothin' but his union suit. A step down from his birthday suit, but with it bein' a threadbare, worn-out thing, weren't much left to no imagination, if anyone were to catch his meanin' on that. And the man's humming some off-key song to top it all off, a serenade that no one needs to be hearin' at this early hour.

"What in th' fuck're y'doing, English?!" his wheezing demand, far and away from the cautious callout what'd challenge most on the approach to camp.

"M'riding in, dumbass," Arthur slurs as the donkey shuffles steadily forward. "What's it look like?"

The man's more than three sheets to the wind by his reckoning and Sean can hardly haul himself up from his arse where it landed in the dirt during the first guffaw. He manages with a mighty effort and grabs the donkey's bridle to halt the ride and the ass atop it from going no further.

"Sure y'are, King Arthur," Sean says agreeably, even as he moves to turn the donkey about to leave. "It's real cute, you thinkin' I'd let you tromp into camp when you ain't got a lick of sense left to ya."

Arthur's swipe at him nearly unhorses the man - though, reckon it'd be an un-donkeying with his steed being about as much a horse as Sean is . "What's real 'cute' is you thinkin' you got some sorta sway in it," he mutters with a chuckle at some slippery thought in his liquor-fogged head.

"Tell y'what, English," Sean says, taunts him even by the grin he bears. "Ye get this here donkey turned back around and into camp? I'll let ye be! But I'd put money on ye hittin' the ground 'fore anythin' more."

"He ain't Donkey!" The correction sees Arthur straighten up to his intimidatin' full height, no matter the lessened effect of it when it's done in his union suit, soaked in booze, and riding an ass. He blinks blearily and angles a glare at Sean what takes him two attempts to be within the same cardinal direction as him. "This here's Franklin. S'my good pal," he says, patting the donkey twice on the neck. "Been havin' some hard times, him. Mules're tryin' to take his work, so's… I bought him a drink." Arthur pauses, eyes unfocused as some recollection strikes him. "Well, I tried to buy 'im a drink, only them high society wannabes at the saloon said somethin' 'bout no donkeys allowed." He snorts, cries out indignantly. "No donkeys? What kinda hole-in-the-wall place says donkeys ain't allowed?"

The donkey - Franklin - brays and it's either in agreement, or annoyance that Sean clapped a hand down on his hindquarters to make him lurch forward and away from camp.

"S'right, Franklin!" Arthur leans over the donkey, arms laying lax on either side of his neck, and buries his face into his coat. "Yer a fine donkey, they don't deserve none of yer class, boy."

Sean watches as the pair amble onwards, the challenge of coming to camp forgotten. When they disappear into the predawn darkness, he hitches up his pants and nods, right pleased with himself. Turns back to his watch, only to near stumble into the face and person of John Marston - man what'd gone and manifested there while he was busy seein' to business. "Jay-sus, Marston, y'tryin' to stop me heart?!"

John's grin is grim, his wit dry as he replies. "You think I wouldn't've tried scaring you to death long ago if I'd thought it'd work?"

"Now don't be getting all sour, boy!" Sean admonishes, smoothing down his waistcoat, getting his scraps of dignity back. "It's unseemly and y'don't want to become ol' English, sourer than spoiled milk."

Reference to Arthur gets John's scrutiny off him and onto the indistinct shapes of the shadows beyond. "What was all that about?" he asks, nodding to where the donkey disappeared.

Sean scoffs. "Nothin' that the Irish Terrier couldn't handle!" he proudly proclaims. "Just Arthur bloody Morgan riding in on a donkey, drunker than a skunk and wearin' nothin' but his union suit, if you'd believe it!"

'Troubled' is how he describes the expression taking hold of Marston's face, followed quick by concern that's even faster drowned under irritation. "And that don't seem odd to you?" he asks, and it's a challenge by the sharpness of his tone.

"Morgan likes his alcohol and who'm I to be keepin' a man from the only passion he's got?" Sean keeps up the cheer, though he bristles some under the implications that he missed key details here. "Why's that got you up in a dander?"

John whistles sharp over his shoulder, Old Boy looking up and hauling himself about to trod towards them. "Arthur left here sober, on a damn horse, with his normal kit," he snaps out, grabbing at the reins to loop them over. He hauls himself up into the saddle. "Don't it seem odd to you that he'd come back with none of it?"

See, now that's a bit of sense that has Sean pausing, has him left standing in the proverbial dust as John rides hard past him to catch up to the wayward donkey. "I'm not sayin' you have a point, Marston!" he calls after him. "Just so's you know!"

Ehhhh, maybe he has a point. But it's a wee one and that's all Sean'll allow. Right? Right.

#kichi writes #rdr2 #arthur morgan #sean macguire #john marston #alcohol #donkeys #and no words from our sponsor 8D

[moonah-rose]

Moments of lucidity come rarely to Dutch in his last few years. What happened on Mount Hagen, slaying the rat, that was supposed to be the end of it. That was supposed to be what silenced the voices in his head, what repelled the ghosts clawing at his neck, every night for the best part of a decade. It should have been simple. It would have been, if not for John. Why John? Why did he have to show up, on that same day? That boy had always been his pride and his curse. Seeing him brought back all the doubts, all the paranoia, still never sure how deep that boy's treacherous nature had run and for how many years. Micah was a rat, the undoing of his community, but that didn't mean John was fully innocent. His wife had taken the key for the money, that much he knew...and John had chosen her over him, the man who raised him, who gave him everything! He could never forgive that...Never.

He'd nearly shot the wrong one. If John had shot Micah first, if he had taken Dutch's own rightful vengeance, he might have pulled the trigger (before turning it on himself, he knows). Then he said Arthur's name. The snake dared to dismiss it, what happened, what he...They...Dutch kept his eyes on John, searching for the truth, while the boy begged him to speak. And for only the second time in his life, words had failed Dutch Van Der Linde. He'd seen too many of his sons lay dead at his feet. No more, not that day. He shot Micah. He let John and his damn family have the money. That was supposed to be the end. He just wanted to rest.

The years only brought more voices. More shadows in his sleep, his own anguished cries waking him in a cold sweat. A bloody cough followed by a gunshot. A hand crunching beneath his boot. He gave him all he had. He did. For god sake, he knows he did, he believes him, now please go away!

John is easy to track. Dutch finds him after less than a year. No doubt Uncle Sam will too. The fact he's still alive doesn't bode well for Dutch's convictions. But little John is a good and law-abiding man now, an upstanding husband and father, so much better than the filthy streetrat he once was, let alone the lowlives that took him in and fed, clothed and raised the ungrateful brat.

All Dutch does is watch. He sees his boy carry the hay to the horses. He sees Jack play fetch with Cain...No...Not Cain, that's him now. The wanderer. He sees Uncle drinking hooch before snoozing against a tree, and for a moment merry songs around a campfire while Sean makes a heartfelt yet slurred speech threatens to drown him in sweet nostalgia. He touches his own hand and imagines it's Hosea. They did it. They...No. Only John. The only one. Grief rears its head again, and his brain is an endless cycle of giddy cheer as he remembers the old days, to reliving each heartbreaking loss, to aiming his gun at John from that hill and fuming at what HE chose...and then wanting to claw out his own heart with regret. With shame. And on and on it goes.

He never gets too close. The Marstons never know he's there, that their own sponsor is watching over them...contemplating if they were deserving of his generosity after trying to stab him in the back. God damn snakes!

Then one day, he's passing by after hearing news about a new group of native boys stirring up trouble, and he decides to look in on them. On his snake of a son. Even that whore wife was looking big the last time he saw them. It's so much easier to let the poisonous thoughts speak the loudest these days.

They suggest burning the ranch, like he once did to that inbred crone. Its his, truly, paid for by his money! It all meant nothing. And all because that small-minded child of a man could not understand the truth. Because he could not keep his faith. That was all he asked. Faith. Loyalty.

He wouldn't have let him swing, never...But it would have been easier to let him rot. He should have.

The boy, Jackie, he's not playing with the dog today. He's standing oh so still. He's in black. Even the who...Abigail. Her name is Abigail. She's not big anymore. How long ago was that now? Two years? She's...also in black, face veiled. The wind carries her cries. For a moment Dutch assumes this is for Uncle, his time having finally run short, until he spots him too. No drink. Stood upright, his arm around Abigail.

And then comes John from his front door. He's carrying something large...No. Not large, not when Dutch realises what it is. They shouldn't make things like that so...small. Tiny. And they should never be carried alone. But John does. His feet look weighed down with a grief so crushing that Dutch feels it suffocating him from all this way. He can't see his face all that clear...but he knows him. He knows how that boy never cries, just lets his eyes shine with a lifetime of sadness.

"John...My dear boy...I'm sorry." He mutters, useless as always.

All the hatred, all the accusations, all the deceipt and lies shrivel to nothing. They're blown on the wind like ash. Dutch can only watch as John lays the coffin in the freshly dug earth. He takes off his hat...that familar black hat with the rope...and holds it to his chest. His wife goes to put something in, but her hands are shaking too hard and she nearly collapses. So Jackie lays it down in the pit. A pink blanket? Maybe even a tiny dress? A daughter. He had a little girl. Oh John.

It's a pain he knows, that he can share in, wishing that he could take it all from his son onto himself. The loss of a child. The sense of failure that you couldn't save them. No matter what took that sweet young thing from this world, he has no doubt John blames himself.

It's not your fault, he wishes he could tell him. He wants to hold his son. He wants to have the words again, words John can believe in like when he was young, words that tell him "I'm here and it's okay." He wants to...be...

It fizzles out as fast as it came. The voices return and dig their talons in deep before shredding his rotten carcass of a mind away.

He doesn't belong there. He isn't wanted. He...He let them down. Let them all down, left them for dead, let that snake seep his venom into his thoughts. Money can't make this right. Money meant nothing next to death.

A shell hardens over what little remains of Dutch's heart. John chose this life, he needs to take it for what it is, good and bad. Joy and pain. The best thing Dutch can do for his son is leave him be and pray that they never have to set eyes on each other again.

Because if they do...it will mean the end. For both of them.

#this was supposed to be a speculative meta post #about Dutch being a creeper and watching John at his ranch #and it turned into an angsty fic #as you do! #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #angst #john marston #dutch van der linde #tw: child death

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Five Times John Wanted to See a Movie, and One Time Kayne Made it Suck - a Malevolent Podcast Oneshot

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

Spoilers up to Malevolent ep. 31.

AO3

----------

In January, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

“Damn it, John… fine. You know what? Fine! We’ll go sit in the dark and be perfect targets for someone! Is that what you want?”

He gives in, though.

Arthur can be stubborn. He can be foolish in refusal, often saying no just to say it. 

But to this?

To an innocent request, almost childlike in its intensity, and in its expectation of reply?

Arthur can’t hold out for that long.

Not when it seems to bring John such uncomplicated joy.

#

The movie is called Dancing Lady, and Arthur already knows nothing will ever be made like it again once the Hays Code has its way.

It’s a ridiculous love triangle, a “tarnished” woman (a concept Arthur finds absurd) torn between a rich sponsor and a poor lover, both of whom, at least, see her talent for what it is.

There are some scenes in this one. At one point, Clark Gable massages Joan Crawford’s leg, raising it above his shoulder, only hinting at the things that must surely be on display from Gable’s point of view.

Yowza.

It’s hard not to imagine Joan Crawford making the kinds of faces John describes, and Arthur can’t help a little bit of distracting response.

He focuses on his popcorn instead of anything else prone to explode.

“Those guys are a lot of silk hats and silk socks with nothing between,” says Clark Gable on screen, and Arthur laughs.

John huffs. Why are they being so particular about this?

“Particular about what?” says Arthur.

Tod, Patch, Janie. Why the fuck doesn’t she just lie with both of them? Why do they give a fuck?

Arthur is completely taken aback. “Well, it… I mean… she can’t do that.”

Why not?

Arthur has never in his life considered this question.

It’s about offspring, John decides.

“Ah… no, it’s not really—”

They demand monogamy so there can be no question of inheritance.

“She’s a dancing girl. She has nothing to inherit.”

Sure, but Tod does.

“Yes, but… that isn’t it, John.”

Then what is?

Arthur’s really not sure how to answer. What’s he going to say? That it isn’t the Christian thing to do? “I… it just isn’t done that way. Generally.”

Though in his musician days, he witnessed some truly unique romantic configurations.

It’s a lot to think about.

Stupid, pronounces John with fiendish delight, and continues to tell Arthur everything that’s happening on screen even though Arthur does not reply.

#

In February, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur sighs. “John. I’ve been fucking stabbed.”

Only a little, says John. The three stitches are fine. You’re fine.

He is fine, honestly. It wasn’t that bad, and in the end, they took out the giant bug-thing that poked him.

He’s pretty sure he isn’t poisoned. Maybe that alone deserves celebration.

Arthur sighs. “Well. I suppose an evening of distraction isn’t such a terrible idea.”

Of course it’s not a terrible idea. It’s mine.

Arthur rolls his useless eyes, but can’t help a little smile. 

#

This movie, though. This movie hits different.

Death Takes a Holiday is about Death himself, who is tired of being misunderstood, and decides to go slumming among humans for a few days to see if he can figure out why.

And he falls in love. 

With a human.

Which can’t end well for that poor lady.

Arthur forgets his popcorn.

The drama is absolutely contrived and thoroughly effective. The struggles of the inhuman to understand the human—

The choice of the human to understand the strange—

“And tonight, I must go back to my distant kingdom,” says Fredric March, whose portrayal of Death is passionate, quiet-spoken, and rife with tortured drama.

“Will you take me with you?” says Evelyn Venable, who plays Grazia, the love interest, and whose name means grace.

“Take you?” says Death, who is pretending to be something he is not, who is carrying on a wild con with the goal of… enlightenment? “Take you? I should be so unhappy alone. Take you? Oh, no, no… don’t tempt me. But Grazia, give me one hour of you—let me hold you once, and feel your life.”

Holy shit, Arthur thinks, because he’s pretty sure he knows how Grazia feels.

Sort of. He’s no damsel, and whatever he and John are isn’t romantic, but still?

“Now you see me as I am,” says Death, at last revealed as shadow, as monster, as darkly divine.

“But I've always seen you like that! You haven't changed,” says Grazia.

She chooses him, knowing what he is.

She chooses him, knowing what it will cost.

The music swells, and Arthur finds himself tearing up. “Then there is a love which casts out fear, and I have found it! And love is greater than illusion… and as strong as death!” Death declares.

John cheers. She goes with him! She went with him! Yes, Arthur!

Does John see the parallels, too?

Arthur isn’t brave enough to ask.

He wipes his eyes, amazed, moved. Almost envious of that stupid made-up girl.

Yeah. This one hit different. 

He can’t help wondering, silly as it is, if this movie was based on something that really happened.

Death and Grazia, reaching across the gap.

It’s not him and John.

But then, who can say just what they are?

#

In March, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur is tired. “Really? Now?”

Why not? We owe ourselves a little treat.

They do, but after Death’s little romance, Arthur’s not sure he’s ready.

He has decided “friend” is the word for them, but only because he doesn’t have a better one.

Its problem is, it’s not strong enough. It’s nowhere near strong enough.

Arthur is well aware that facing off against the damned pallid mask cult again is the reason for his mood, but what he needs to remember is they failed. 

He’s alive. 

John is still here.

John did not take his exit, his gilt and crafted fire escape, much to the cult’s confusion.

When Arthur destroyed their framework of magic and bone, John cheered him on.

John doesn’t seem to miss them, or regret Arthur’s success.

That means a lot.

Friend? Sure. In lieu of a better word.

Arthur sighs. “What do you want to see?”

#

Jimmy the Gent is bonkers.

Arthur half wonders if it pushes the bar so hard because the Hays Code is breathing down Hollywood’s collective neck, threatening to end artistic freedom forever.

He also wonders if anyone but James Cagney and Bette Davis could have pulled this plotline off.

Cagney plays an unscrupulous man who seeks out wealthy folks who died without a will, then produces heirs to rake in the moolah—heirs who aren’t even real.

The main conflict is his girlfriend balking at his techniques, bailing to join a competitor, and coming back again when the eponymous Jimmy shows himself to be slightly less wicked than the other guy.

There isn’t actually a hero. It’s not black and white; it may be comedy, but it’s comedy gray.

“The only thing he's got that I want is you, and he took you away from me,” says Jimmy.

Oof. Those are some words to hear, and Arthur struggles not to apply them.

“He's got ethics,” says Davis, the dame Joan.

“I don't care if he has carbuncles. The only difference between him and me is he's got a smoother line,” says Cagney as the eponymous Jimmy.

Haha… ah. Wow.

“You can't make yourself clean by making him dirty,” says Joan, and Arthur’s stomach twists.

Arthur slowly exhales. This is a poor allegory for the King in Yellow and him, isn’t it?

But it maybe isn’t so bad for him and Larson.

He’s a little bit better than Larson. Just a little. Is that enough to make him good?

John, funny enough, doesn’t wrestle with morality at all in this, but has a blast with the humor, and praises the cleverness of the characters. He particularly appreciates the way Jimmy puts on airs to win back his lady love. Goal achieved, intimacy earned, all for the price of a barrel of determination and a pinch of deceit.

Arthur is uncomfortable as fuck, and eats all the popcorn at the film, too much popcorn, and gives himself a stomachache.

Somehow, he feels it is deserved.

#

In May, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

They end up picking one all about deceit, romance, and false identity.

The Thirty Day Princess is a heck of a ride.

Are you trying to tell me something? Arthur thinks at a god he doesn’t believe in, thinks at the King in Yellow who is and is not John.

“She Reminds Me of You,” croons Bing Crosby as the hero dances with the princess-under-false-pretenses, who’s filling in for her sick counterpart for a total of thirty days.

Who looks exactly like the ill royal, but most definitely is not her.

I'm standing all alone I've got nothing to live for She reminds me of you And she reminds me of you And it breaks my heart in two

Dear fucking gods.

John is not the King in Yellow.

Except that he is.

Arthur hasn’t processed this. Hasn’t figured it out.

I am the King in Yellow, sounds John’s voice in Arthur’s memory, and Arthur ends up physically ill at the end of the film.

John is quite concerned, but Arthur doesn’t know what to tell him when he asks what’s wrong, and leaves all his questions unanswered like unraveling thread.

#

In September, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Enough time has passed that Arthur’s resistance has worn down.

He refused two months in a row. He rejoiced (in silence) that the madness with the Order of the Falling Star prevented any such frivolity through August.

But now that’s done, and Kayne has another poorly defined deal that began with an entire group of cultists violently dead, and Percy has Arthur’s blood in a jar for some reason and a promise of future contact, and it’s done.

For better or worse, it’s done.

And it’s quiet.

And John wants to see a movie.

“You know what?” says Arthur, who could use the distraction. "There’s one I want to see, too. Do you know the poets Elizabeth Barret and Robert Browning? Well… Elizabeth wrote some of the most wonderful verse about love and longing that anyone ever has, and apparently, there’s a movie about it, so let’s go see.”

#

The Barretts of Wimpole Street turns out to be completely not what Arthur expected.

Love disallowed by a sex-repulsed parent, physical illness barring the freedom afforded any ordinary adult, a stressful and creepy scene with incestuous undertones, and a decision to kill a beloved pet dog (which fortunately did not pan out) leave Arthur feeling absolutely weird about the whole thing.

The movie tiptoes a lot about morality, about right and wrong, about societal norms and familial expectations.

At least some of it reminded him of arguments with Daniel, after Bella had come down pregnant.

At least some of it reminded him of arguments with James, the day Faroe was born.

All of it reminded him of whatever he has with John, and he doesn’t know how to interpret that.

Norma Shearer as Elizabeth asking, “Robert, have you ever thought that my strength may break down on the journey?”

Frederick March as Robert answering: “It had occurred to me, yes.”

Arthur feels so very mortal, these days.

“Supposing I were to die in your hands?” she says.

“Are you afraid?”

Yes, thinks Arthur. I’m very afraid.

And then comes the line that hits hardest. “Yes,” says Robert Browning. “I am prepared to risk your life, much more my own, to get you out of that dreadful house and into the sun and to have you for my wife.”

Was that an okay thing to say?

Arthur doesn’t know.

He feels like he and John have each made that decision for each other, more than once.

But nobody’s a wife. 

Or something.

He’s not really sure what he’s internally protesting.

“I'm sick of fighting alone. I need a comrade in arms to fight beside me,” Robert says.

“But not one already wounded in battle,” Elizabeth says, who feels lesser, who feels so weak.

“Wounded but undaunted, unbeaten, unbroken. What finer comrade could a man ask for?”

Undefeated.

Arthur swallows hard. Maybe this one was pointed at him, after all.

That was kind of depressing, John pronounces with great cheer as they leave, having enjoyed every moment, and described it all to Arthur in an effort to help him enjoy it, too. I can’t believe he wanted to kill the dog! 

“Well,” says Arthur. “Some people are… cruel… when they lose.”

Someone should kill him instead, John says, and he is joking.

Probably joking.

It feels like John’s moral compass is more reliable than Arthur’s own, these days, so Arthur decides to just let that one go.

#

In October, Arthur says, “John—I want to see a movie.”

Really? You do? You want to hear one, you mean? says John, who’s being clever.

Arthur is able to laugh. “Yes, you whacko.”

John’s pleased. Arthur can feel it. I know you are, but what am I?

Arthur laughs again.

The back-and-forth is ridiculous, but feels so damn good in spite of that. Easy; effortless. Affectionate, knives long stashed.

Three whole weeks have passed since the Rancid Ruby case, and their successful retrieval of the jewel (and the minister’s daughter, whom they hadn’t even known was missing) has brought them enough business and enough income that Arthur has begun to believe John is right: they’re going to be okay.

It’s also put the final nail in the dismissal of their murder case. The minister stood as a character witness, and finally swayed the judge. Who knew?

Parker and Eddie’s deaths have been officially attributed to a burglary gone wrong—backed by Arthur’s wrecked car, miles from the scene; by hospital proof that Arthur, unidentified, had been in a coma; and by Arthur’s indisputable claim of amnesia, causing his disappearance for many months. 

Larson is MIA, having been carried off by the monstrous thing he summoned.

The Butcher is retired, having philosophized himself into a monastery, eager for hypocritical redemption and literal flagellation.

Kayne hasn’t called his favor, but right now, it’s hard to look toward that with horror.

Even this latest case worked out, with a wild showdown in Central Park, loads of witnesses, and the Jade MacGuffin returned to its owner.

It’s all coming up roses. Arthur is almost able to hope.

So what did you want to see? says John.

“Well, they’re saying this will be one of the last great movies—the Hays Code, and all,” says Arthur, who has tried to explain it, and shared John’s frustration at the enforcement of false human experience and morality on screen. “It’s about the great Egyptian queen Cleopatra—a tragic love story, and one that’s inspired all manner of art, music, poetry, and more for centuries.”

Sure. Sounds good. The theater on 15th has popcorn, you know.

That’s all Arthur needs to hear.

#

And it isn’t pointed, it really is not. But it sort of fits how he’s feeling, anyway.

“Together, we could conquer the world,” Cleopatra says, Elizabeth Taylor making every word so sensual that Arthur could drown in any one of them for a week.

“Nice of you to include me,” Warren William’s Julius Caesar replies, and Arthur chuckles, and John says, Hahaha! You can do better! and it’s such a beautiful, perfect shared moment.

And of course, she can do better—in the form of Marc Antony, played by Henry Wilcoxon.

Arthur loses himself in it all, even though he can’t see. The cast is huge. The effects (via John) are jaw-dropping. The music score is moving and expertly done.

When Taylor says, "On. Your. Knees,” Arthur feels some things he really doesn’t know what to do with, but the moment passes quickly.

Cleopatra is everything Arthur wanted in an evening of self-indulgent escape, and John’s continued enthusiasm only makes it more sweet.

Arthur sniffles at the tragic ending, even though he knew it was coming, which Taylor plays to the hilt.

It definitely doesn’t feel pointed like the other movies did. Arthur figures out why when it’s done, while he’s waiting for everyone else to file out so he can leave the theater unhindered.

A lack of communication and irreconcilable core values led to the tragedy on screen.

That’s not him and John. Well, it used to be; but Arthur is certain it’s not anymore.

John says, I think I understand her.

“Her? Cleopatra? How so?”

And with that unnervingly good memory John sometimes demonstrates, he quotes: ‘So Rome would forgive and take you back? And all they demand is for us to part. Why don't they ask the sun to fall right out of the sky?’

Arthur swallows.

That’s how I feel about you, says John, who has never said he loves Arthur, but has shown it, repeatedly and without hesitation.

Arthur has some thoughts on that. "I feel the same,” he says, who has never said those words to John, even though the King in Yellow called him on it months ago.

But Arthur’s fairly sure he’s shown it, too.

He's been thinking a lot about love, of late.

About what it really is, and how it is expressed.

About how the movies usually portray two kinds: romantic, and familial.

This love is neither. It’s different, loaded with unknown spice, broken free from a mold Arthur cannot name.

But it is absolutely real, and Arthur has come to a conclusion that shakes him to his core: he was already willing to die for John, many months ago, yes. But now?

Now, he’s willing to live for him.

Even if Kayne decided to offer me a body, I’m not going anywhere, John says out of nowhere.

“A body?” Arthur isn’t sure where that idea came from. “I doubt he’d do that.”

John says nothing.

Arthur tries to bridge whatever unexpected gap this is, squirming with things in the dark. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to obtain papers for you, if that happened. Make you all legitimate.”

Really. Is that so?

Arthur has to poke. “I’ll say you’re from Montana. That should explain away any obvious social gaffes.”

Gaffes! I’ll have you know I’m far better at handling people than you.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we? In this theoretical future that probably won’t happen.”

There’s another slight pause. Arthur frowns.

I want my name on the business, John suddenly says.

Arthur snorts.

Arthur! I’m serious!

“Yes, yes. I don’t see why not.” Arthur is more concerned he might not get his sight back than that John’s name is painted on frosted glass. “Lester and Doe, Private Investigators For Hire.”

Doe and Lester.

“Excuse you. I was in it first.”

But I’m clearly the smarter partner.

Arthur laughs. “You dork.”

And will probably be better-looking, too.

“Now, that’s going too far,” says Arthur, chuckling. 

You’ll see. I’ll draw everyone’s attention with my glorious form, and that’ll give you time to riffle their drawers.

“That’s… not a horrible idea, honestly, though there are a few problems with that—namely, you have no body, and even if you did, I’d still be blind.”

Well, I… well, we…

“Gotcha,” says Arthur, smug, because it’s easier to laugh at this possible future than actually deal with any of it, though even the shadow it casts hurts.

You did not. That’s not even a point. Half a point, maybe.

“Lester and Doe, it is,” Arthur says, because it’s fun to poke the bear.

Instead of answering, John gasps.

Arthur knows John. Knows him well. And immediately stops walking.

“You know, just when I think you two can’t get any cuter, you go and wrap a bow on your dicks and call it Christmas,” says Kayne so close that Arthur can feel breath on his lips.

Arthur staggers back a few steps, then stops himself. Running won’t help. “What do you want?”

Kayne must have kept pace with him, because he speaks just as close, an inch away. “It’s your lucky day! Oh, did you tell him, snippet? Did you? I assume you would have by now, I mean, it’s not like you had half a year or something to figure out how to broach the topic.”

Oh, no. What?

It’s like the ground under Arthur’s feet is shaking, ground he’d thought was solid, but hides a deep and jagged fault line. “What is he talking about?”

Arthur, I—

“Too late now!” says Kayne, and there is a whoosh of air.

Arthur staggers. He didn’t move, but he did, and the sounds and smells tell him he’s no longer on the sidewalk, but in an alley.

And then comes a voice he hates.

A drawl, casual and arrogant, and it doesn’t even matter that it’s coming from waist-height, because his immediate urge is to attack it at once like a bird in a mirror.

“Well, this isn’t what I expected,” says Wallace Larson.

Arthur takes a step.

John reaches across his chest and grabs his arm, hard, like a physical restraint.

“Oh, the webs we weave when we practice to deceive,” says Larson, who sounds fine and dandy, if a little shorter than before.

Arthur, says John, evenly. He’s not alone. He’s strapped to a weird, short table, barely fitting into the alley, and his legs are jammed against the wall. And he’s not alone.

And because this wasn’t fraught enough, the next voice is identical.

Identical. But it isn’t John.

You! Murderer!

“Yellow?” says Arthur, shock stealing sound and sense from this moment, tingling through his body so his face feels numb.

Kayne bounces something light off the side of his head.

“What?” Arthur startles.

“Sorry, thought you’d open your mouth for it, like a baby bird. Popcorn?” Another one hits right under his eye.

“Stop it! What are you doing?”

It’s time for justice! Yellow declares.

Oh, shut the fuck up, John snarls.

Traitor! bellows Yellow.

And Larson starts to sing. Insultingly, it is a hymn.

“Bury my body,” Larson croons in a surprisingly pleasing baritone. “Lord, I don't care where they bury my body. Lord, I don't care where they bury my body, ‘cause my soul is gonna live with God.”

Arthur is going to kill him. The rest of this can sort itself out. He takes another step.

“Hold on there, boyo,” says Kayne in the Butcher’s accent, and takes Arthur’s hand. “You’ll need this.”

That is the handle of a knife. A knife, pressed into his right palm, which means Kayne wants him to do this, and that pours cold water all over the whole operation.

The handle burns, but Arthur ignores that.

Go ahead, says Yellow. You’re already a killer. I see it in your eyes. I know you, Arthur Lester!

This can’t be happening.

“It is, though,” whispers Kayne in his ear. “Looks like Little John didn’t tell you anything, did he? That’s a real foundation for trust.”

“What?” says Arthur, who feels stuck like a skipping record.

You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, says John.

I do. He confessed. He murdered that man and fucking ATE HIM.

He did that because of you! John roars at Yellow. You’re the one who put him in the pit! You’re the one who sent him the gods-damned cannibal! What did you want him to do, just sit back and be eaten?

“What?” says Arthur, weakly.

Because for Yellow to have done that means—

I did? says Yellow, sounding as confused as if he’d been thocked on his phantasmal head.

“Oh, oh, oh yeah,” sings Larson. 

Arthur needs a moment.

“I’m not leaving,” he snaps before anybody can yell at him, and turns to stand at the entrance to the alley, just breathing.

He’s very, very glad he had no alcohol with dinner tonight.

“I dunno, pal, it might’ve helped you out,” Kayne says.

“What is this?” says Arthur.

“Isn’t it clear? No, I suppose it’s not—guess good old Liz (or maybe Henry) redirected the blood from your brain to elsewhere. You’re here to kill your enemy, my boy! End the torment. Flip the switch. Bring that hammer down.”

Arthur swallows. He’s tasting metal again—a thing he’s noticed only happens when he’s on the verge of panic.

Which he is. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

Arthur, I can explain.

“Shhh,” says Kayne, and touches Arthur’s lips.

Arthur tries for him with the knife. 

Of course, it only hits brick, jarring his hand. “Ow,” he mutters. “Damn it!”

“He’ll get to explain it all after. For now, however, you, being the key in this situation, being fully entangled with him, and thus, his representative with a physical form, have a job to do.”

“What job? I haven’t agreed to—is this my favor? For killing those cultists?”

Kayne laughs. “No, you sweet thing. It’s his.”

“His?” Arthur’s voice is small.

I… Arthur, I…

Get back here! Coward! Yellow calls from the alleyway.

“I have questions,” says Arthur, but he honestly can’t think of one.

Kayne tsks at him. “I can see you’re in shock, you tender soul, you, so let’s make this simple. Do this, or John’s gone.”

“Gone?” Arthur’s voice cracks.

“Removed. Incised. Purged, if you will. It’s what he agreed to.”

“John?” says Arthur.

This is what you wanted him in New York for? John says, sounding incredulous.

Arthur’s brain has skipped parts of this conversation like it touched an electrical fault, and he blurts, “Yellow is the King in Yellow, isn’t he?”

Kayne laughs. “Wow, are you behind! They’re both the King in Yellow, my darling rose. Snippet, what have you been teaching him? What, nothing? Well, this is on you, then.”

Get back here! howls Yellow. We’re not finished!

“I said all right,” Larson starts singing again. “You know it's alright. It's alright, c'mon.”

And it calms Yellow. It calms the piece of the King in Yellow, the copy of John that Arthur betrayed, that Arthur ruined so badly that he’s refused to think about it because there’s no fixing what went wrong.

“You are correct on that one,” Kayne confirms. “This is fun, and all, but boys… you’re losing my patience. It’s time.”

Arthur finds himself walking back into the alley.

It’s easy to follow Larson’s voice. 

To follow the sweet-syrup sound of that most hated man, who is awfully damn calm about this, and that is the one thought that surfaces. “You’re awfully damn calm about this, Larson,” Arthur snarls.

“Of course I am, my boy. I’m about to enter immortality. Little hard not to face that with some sorta joy, given all I paid for it.”

“Paid for it!” Arthur’s voice breaks. “You didn't pay for it! Your daughter did!”

“So did yours,” says Larson, who shouldn’t know that, who must have been told by Kayne. “We both got to where we are through that most unfortunate necessity, didn't we?”

Murderer! Yellow declares.

Six months ago, that would have been it.

Arthur would have lost it. Gone feral, melted into violent goo, stabbed and tore and shouted until he was covered in gore, until Larson was unrecognizable, until the form could compete with Uncle for mess and mayhem and pulp in bad places.

Today, he pauses.

It’s not the same, says John, calm, because this is only for Arthur. You know it’s not. We’ve been over this.

He killed his daughter! says Yellow.

He made a mistake and she died—and what the fuck are you crowing about? Your guy sacrificed his on purpose! One’s an accident and the other isn't! Fuck, how stupid are you? Did I get all the intelligence, is that it?

What? says Yellow, again taken aback, again stuttered to a halt in the middle of rage.

Arthur realizes with a little gut-twist that Yellow is weirdly naive.

Gullible. That’s the word. He just accepts what anybody says in the moment, then applies that black and white, childish morality.

Yellow would not understand half the movies they’d seen of late.

Why? Why was this?

“Because he didn’t get to spend a month all alone, silly,” says Kayne. “Isn’t that neat? It’s all about godhood and nature versus nurture and all that kind of thing. If you’d been awake the whole time, your John would be even screwier than he is. It’s almost like your bad luck scratches the itch of some eager, chaotic observers. Anyway! What’s the hold up? That’s the guy who hurt you, Arty. That’s the guy who made your teeth loose. You really gonna hesitate now?”

That’s the guy means Yellow, not Larson, and this just got more complicated. “What happens to Yellow if I do this?” says Arthur, because he never asked that before, and he should have, and it’s probably too late, but that’s just how his life goes.

“Hm? Oh, he’ll die,” says Kayne.

John gasps.

Shit. “And what happens to John, then?” says Arthur.

“Heck if I know. This is all new territory, which is why I’m being so patient. Don’t want to miss a thing.”

“Lead me, Jesus, lead me,” sings Larson. “Why don't you lead me in the middle of the air, and if my wings should fail me, won't you provide me with another pair?”

“So you’re crackers,” says Arthur. “Barmy. Lost your damned mind. This isn’t Jesus. This is Kayne. He’s not going to do anything good for you.”

Kayne gasps. “Such ingratitude!” And he laughs. “Next, you’re going to say you don’t want your office filled with music boxes.”

Okay, that—

Okay.

Arthur needs another moment.

“You don’t get one,” Kayne whispers in his ear. “It’s time. John didn’t tell you, and I’m glad he didn’t, because you are fucking glorious this upset, but it’s time. Kill him.”

“Why?” whispers Arthur, and means so many things.

Kayne doesn’t bother to reply.

I… Arthur, I….

“Will you be all right, John?”

I don’t know.

Arthur grips the knife. Its burning leather handle creaks, and Arthur accepts the pain in his palm, because something this messy should not be easy.

Yellow gasps. You’re going to do it in cold blood?

“I’m sorry, Yellow,” says Arthur, because Yellow is not really the King in Yellow, any more than John is. “It seems I fucked up for you all over the place.”

You’re a killer. I don’t expect anything better from you.

He’s human, says John. He’s made mistakes, and stayed alive. Your guy’s no better.

Yellow seems stunned again. He’s not?

Larson laughs. “Little guy, it’s all right. This is where it was always going. Why do you think I had to get you to New York? You’re my final step. My sacrifice. Your death’ll elevate me, son. Mister Lester, I’m fully ready. Do the deed. Let’s get this over with. Then, when I’m ascended, and I’m a god, I’ll be sure to stop by and say hi.”

Arthur’s throat is tight. “He can’t be serious.”

“His deals aren’t for you to know,” says Kayne. “Also, you’re out of time.”

“Wait,” says Arthur.

“Say goodbye to John in three,” says Kayne.

“Wait!” says Arthur, who has an idea, who suddenly thinks—

“Two,” says Kayne. 

With a choked, miserable sound, Arthur cuts Larson’s throat.

But not with the knife Kayne gave him.

“Oh, foul!” Kayne cries. “Oh! Oh! Cheater!”

Andrew! says Yellow, sounding distraught. Andrew! No! No!

What did you do? says John.

“Improvised?” says Arthur, who has no idea what he’s done, except he had to save John, except the knife Kayne gave him was maybe special, except this complete guess was the only hope he had, and he’d only had time to stuff Kayne’s knife away and grab his own instead.

Larson gargles. He sounds like he’s trying to laugh.

Andrew! Yellow sobs it. Andrew! He doesn’t seem to be dying.

So it worked?

So Larson doesn’t get godhood?

Arthur’s hand is warm with blood. He doesn’t know what to do. He tries to clean that knife inside his jacket, where he hopes it won’t show.

Kayne sighs. Paces. 

Kayne punches the wall.

It’s a bad sound, cracking, crumbling. Something inside the building crashes down, and there are screams.

Arthur shakes.

“You know,” says Kayne. “I’ll give you this one. I’ll hand it to you. Didn’t predict it. That’s awful rare. So I’m really pissed at you, and you’ll feel that soon enough—but I can appreciate a good scam.”

“I didn’t pull a scam,” Arthur says, quieter, because Yellow has begun to sob.

It is an ugly sound, wretched, utterly unselfconscious.

He’s doing that because Larson is dead.

It doesn’t feel good. None of this does. Arthur isn’t the same as he was in Addison. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Yellow doesn’t stop crying long enough to answer.

Kayne shoves him suddenly, bruisingly, against the wall. “I am… really… mad at you. I won’t get to pull an experiment like this again for who knows how the fuck long. But… that was the deal. You did the deed. Technically, you’re off the hook. But you, Arthur—you still owe me a favor.”

“I won’t kill Yellow,” Arthur says.

Arthur!

Arthur takes Kayne’s knife back out of his pocket and throws it down, and the clang it makes in the alley is weird, wrong, otherworldly. “I won’t. I’ve done enough to him! Fuck you, I—”

He chokes.

There is a fist is in his throat, impossibly swelling, knuckles distending, expanding, distorting, threatening to tear him from the inside. Can’t swallow around it. Can’t—

It stops. 

Arthur gasps, ragged.

“Better idea,” says Kayne, and suddenly, Yellow’s sobbing is inside his head.

“John!” Arthur manages, gagging, terrified John was swapped into the dead man’s body.

I’m here! I—what the fuck?

Leave me alone! Yellow howls.

They’re both in there, equally loud, equally growly, and it’s too much, there is a weight to the fulness of an eldritch god in his brain, and his own soul feels pinched and battered and stepped on, and he can’t breathe, and—

“This should be fun,” he hears Kayne say, and then he passes out.

#

The arguing is what wakes him.

That doesn’t matter. I don’t care.

Then you’re a hypocrite of the highest order, John snarls.

What does that make you?

Look, you moron, just calling me things doesn’t make it—Arthur! The change in tone is remarkable. Arthur—are you all right? Talk to me, Arthur.

The sharp concern in John’s voice—tenderness mixed with violence, crafted for him.

Arthur recalls Yellow weeping over Larson, and he aches for him, and wonders if his own inner compass has gotten even more broken over the last day. “I’m… I’m here. Fuck, I sound strangled.”

He does. Haggard, raspy. 

Larson could out-sing him at this very moment, and he won’t be able to sing to calm Yellow for a while, and that is such an odd thought to have that Arthur’s face burns, and he rolls over to press it into the cool pillow.

Wait. Pillow?

Lucky, says Yellow, low and bitter. Yours woke up.

I told you he would. He’s remarkable.

Andrew was remarkable.

Wallace Larson was a motherfucking cheat who traded children and people’s lives all the time to seem interesting. Arthur does it all on his own.

Arthur feels not all on his own a little too much, right now. “Yellow.”

What? says the new voice, and the tone is fearful, and challenging, and tight.

Is he doing this?

He’s doing this.

Arthur already decided he’s doing this, and he may be many things, but he doesn’t easily change his mind. “I’m sorry.”

Both the voices in his head are still for a moment.

What? they say together.

“I’m sorry. I met you when I was… I was at the worst of myself. I lied to you, and tried to control you, because I was so afraid of losing you again. Losing… John again. Kayne told me you were him, and I thought… you know, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I fucked up, Yellow. I’m sorry.” It feels weak. “That’s all.”

There is a trembling inside, a non-corporeal shaking that feels like maybe the fault line has been transplanted into him.

How dare you? Yellow says.

I told you so, says John.

How dare you lie to me! You just murdered my… you killed him!

Arthur sighs. “I did. I wasn’t letting John get taken. No matter what shape I’m in, that’s… just how it’s going to be.”

That trembling again.

Larson was ready to sacrifice you, like I said—but you’re safe now, says John to Yellow, which Arthur did not expect. You’re me. He won’t hurt you.

That’s more faith in Arthur than Arthur has for himself.

I’m not you. We can’t even merge, Yellow says.

“You can’t?” says Arthur, who’d forgotten that was a thing until this moment.

No. We… we’ve both changed too much. We can’t.

There is sorrow in John’s voice, deep and aching, a finality that communicates loss Arthur can’t fully comprehend.

It’s a farewell to a thing Arthur cannot even imagine needing.

He has no idea how to engage with it, so he goes for familiar ground. Not a poem, but the movie they just saw—a way to say, I love you, without saying those words. “‘You choose me, Cleopatra, against the world,’” he says.

John practically surges to respond. ‘Then we'll meet it! We'll smash it to pieces, put it together again and call it ours!’

Yellow is, understandably, confused. You’re going to smash the world?

“No, we… no. It’s a movie.”

What’s a movie?

John scoffs. Your asshole of a guy didn’t even take you to see a movie? We’ve seen six in just a few months!

But what is one? I want to see one! What is it?

Arthur is not going to see a movie right now. He feels like his head weighs a thousand pounds. “How did I get to a bed? Did Kayne bring me here?”

There is a distinctly guilty pause. So, says John. When you’re fully unconscious, uh. We. Um.

We have control of your hideous form, Yellow informs him. You’re in your hotel room.

“What? Wait, what?” Arthur sits up. He feels the same. Blind, left hand and foot numb. Head too heavy, but—“What?”

When you’re unconscious, repeats John, we have control. So we got you out of there, because there’s a dead body, and we don’t need to face the police again.

Cowards, both of you, says Yellow.

Maybe he should take Yellow to see some morality plays before the movies, or something. “Where’s the knife? It had my fingerprints.”

Fucking Kayne took it back. It was weird, Arthur. I’m glad you couldn’t see it. Even with me looking through your eyes, they bled.

Arthur stiffens and reaches up. Sure enough, there are dried tracks of blood from his eyes down his neck. “Fuck. Can you see?”

Yes. You seem all right. Just… that knife was bad.

Why—Yellow stops.

“Why what?”

Why didn’t you use it?

Arthur’s not sure he’s in any shape to verbalize this. “What I did to you before wasn’t right. What Larson was doing to you now wasn’t right. It’s time someone didn’t do the wrong thing by you, is all.”

Silence in response.

Whatever that means.

Arthur stands, shaky as a newborn lamb, and feels his way to the bathroom. He strips as he goes, dropping clothing in a trail.

Is it time for a rite? says Yellow, oddly hopeful.

Rite?

He’s naked.

So?

This is too weird, and Arthur does not engage. He turns on the shower. 

But… humans get naked for rites.

John scoffs. He told you that? What the fuck?

They don’t get naked for rites? Yellow sounds lost again.

“So what you’re telling me is fucking Larson never washed his arse,” Arthur mutters, and John laughs.

Don’t you know anything about humans? says John then, disgusted.

Of course I do! More than you!

They are clearly going to be at this for a while.

Arthur lets them, hoping they tire themselves out.

He’s scraped from the bricks in the alley. Bruised from Kayne’s manhandling, and, he thinks, inside his throat. His right hand, disturbingly, seems to have been slightly burned where he held that weird knife. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he’s lost his fingerprints.

But he’s okay. He made it.

He always makes it.

And for the first time in his life, weirdly, he feels like he might have a second chance at something he truly fucked up.

They’re still fighting about naked humans. It’s obviously a cleansing rite!

You’re a moron!

“Yellow,” says Arthur. “I’m sorry you lost your person. He was a monster, but… I get it, and I’m sorry. Good, bad—they don’t matter when there’s grief.”

Another trembling pause as the steam rises, and Arthur washes away the blood, the sweat, the dubious stickiness he finds where Kayne grabbed him through his suit jacket.

I… didn’t like it, says Yellow, soft.

“I know. I think we’ve all… we’ve all gone through some loss here, through no fault of our own.”

Don’t tell me you feel bad for taking that fucker out, says John. You’ve been wanting him dead for months.

Arthur knows clarification is needed, and it is the hardest thing to do, but he has to make this second chance count. “Since I learned he sacrificed his daughter for power, yes. It made me think of losing my little girl, and though that was… that was an accident, I couldn’t… imagine someone doing it on purpose. I went a little insane.”

A little? scoffs John.

“A lot insane, then. Still. Yellow wouldn’t have landed in him at all if I hadn’t been such an ass.”

Actually, says John. About that.

Arthur has been thinking. “You made a deal with Kayne.”

I… yes.

Why? says Yellow.

To get back to Arthur.

Why? Yellow says.

He’s mine, says John.

“And, what? It was just about getting me to New York?”

Yes. He said if I did that, I could stay in you. He even hinted he might give me a body, if I paid his debt right, though it wasn’t… worded clearly. If I failed, and couldn’t get you to New York, I’d… I’d go back to the Dark World. But then we were here, and nothing happened, and I… I sort of hoped he’d forgotten.

“You could’ve told me.” It hurts a little. More than a little.

I’m sorry.

Arthur sighs. “I forgive you. We made it through. Just tell me anything else like that, all right?”

I will. I promise.

Yellow is quiet. 

Arthur has no idea how this conversation might stack up against whatever else Yellow has heard.

He dries off and limps back to the bed, where he falls face-first into the pillow. “No joyrides while I’m out. I need rest.”

You adapted to that news pretty quickly, says John, suspicious.

“I have not adapted at all. I’m simply too damn tired to engage with it right now. Tomorrow, I’ll have a proper panic over it, but for the next few hours, I mean it. No joyrides.”

Fine. No joyrides.

But what if we—

We promised. No joyrides.

I didn’t promise, Yellow grouses.

I did, and we are both the King in Yellow, and that’s our word. Shut up.

They are never going to stop.

Weirdly… it’s not that hard to tune them out.

It reminds Arthur of the strangest thing: those noisy, chaotic, wonderful days when Faroe’s “friends”—really just toddlers her age, in the neighborhood—came over, and everybody was yelling and squealing and laughing and demanding, and all the other parents (mothers, they were all mothers, and Arthur never fit in) clustered like chortling geese to add to the ruckus.

And it shouldn’t have been peaceful, but it was.

It shouldn’t have been the kind of noise he could sink into, but it was.

Why this is like that, Arthur doesn’t know.

Maybe he doesn’t need to know.

For some reason, John is now telling Yellow the plot of The Thirty-Day Princess. And then the Baron said, ‘We are on a wild goose egg!’

Yellow laughs.

Is it safe, to leave them unmonitored like this?

Then again, maybe they need it.

Arthur certainly needs it.

He has no idea what to do with this. He has no idea if he can keep them both in there. His skull feels oddly… strained.

But now, right now, he needs sleep.

John promised no joyrides. (Arthur will deal with that horror tomorrow.)

John’s promise, in spite of today’s unpleasant surprise, is good enough.

Yellow’s grief is real. That’s going to take time to navigate. Arthur feels he owes that much.

So… is everyone safe now? At least until Kayne returns?

Maybe.

Arthur doesn’t know how this works, and he’s no longer arrogant enough to assume he ever will.

Maybe he doesn’t have to know.

Maybe it’s enough to survive, and listen, and forgive, and try to make up for mistakes.

To take his chance to make up for one, and hold it with all his heart.

Arthur drifts off to the sound of John’s attempt at a Ruritanian accent.

Maybe it really is coming up roses, after all.

--------

NOTES

Of course, I had to do ridiculous research for this so it would all be accurate.

It's part of my self-indulgence. Hush.

Dancing Lady on Wikipedia, and you get to see the scene that made poor Arthur hot and bothered right here on YouTube.

Death Takes a Holiday is on YouTube in terrible resolution here, BUT if you skip to 1:04:44, you get to see where Grazia chooses to go with Death.

The romp that is Jimmy the Gent. The quip about ethics and carbunkles is right here, at 1:25.

The Thirty Day Princess was hard to track down, but I found a solid review of it, a clip of the Ruritanian accent, and of course, Bing Crosby's She Reminds Me of You.

The Barretts of Wimpole Street, including that DEEPLY uncomfortable clip where the father seems to think all sex is evil, then gets weirdly handsy with his daughter. Yowza.

Oh, Cleopatra... they don't make movies like this anymore. On. Your. Knees.

As for Yellow... well, I saw how he responded to Larson at the end of 28. He just... accepted whatever Larson said - weirdly innocent about it, which made Larson even creepier to me. I sort of figured without a chance to reset and think (like John had during the coma), he wouldn't be able to grow the same way.

The hymn Larson was singing, My Soul is Gonna Live With God. In your dreams, asshole.

#malevolentpod #malevolent fic #malevolent podcast #malevolent #malevolent kayne #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #malevolent fanfic #malevolent arthur #john malevolent #malevolent fanfiction

[justrainandcoffee]

I did this with us plus our ocs and some characters.

@peakyswritings @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @moral-terpitude @call-sign-shark

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.

Reb gathers as much food as she can.

Alfie breaks John's nose for a basket of bread (🤭😂)

Rose runs away with a lighter and some rope.

Eva and Linda work together to drown July .

Arthur finds a backpack full of camping equipment.

Esme and Lucy fight for a bag. Esme gives up and retreats.

→ Eva wtf!!!! Omg!! I'm so sorry, July!! Probably that's her revenge for the horrors 😂😂.

→ All the others just escaped from the cornucopia.

.

Day 1

Quinn and Uncle Charlie hunt for other tributes.

Alfie searches for firewood.

Reb diverts Michael's attention and runs away.

Shark questions her sanity. (Good for you, Shark! 🤭)

Jessie Eden sets an explosive off, killing John.

Linda overpowers Arthur, killing him (her abuser, so...)

Nina goes hunting.

Lucy, Tommy, Eva, Rose , and Heaven hunt for other tributes.

Ava forces Aberama to kill Flor or Lauren . He refuses to kill, so Ava kills him instead.

→ Ava, wtf!! We're friends 🤧🤧😭😭.

.

Night 1

Ava looks at the night sky.

Eva lets Rose into her shelter.

Reb sets up camp for the night.

Lauren and Quinn talk about the tributes still alive.

Heaven, Lucy, Shark, and Alfie sleep in shifts.

Flor pushes Linda off a cliff during a knife fight. 💁‍♀️

Tommy sets an explosive off, killing Michael (yessss)

Nina passes out from exhaustion.

.

Day 2

Lucy receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Ava searches for a water source.

Lauren makes a slingshot.

Alfie sprains his ankle while running away from Nina.

Heaven is pricked by thorns while picking berries.

Reb goes hunting.

Shark, Flor , Quinn, and Polly form a suicide pact, killing themselves.

Eva receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Rose discovers a river.

→ omg!! Rip Shark and me 😔. Hope you miss us.

Night 2

Eva looks at the night sky.

Jessie Eden stays awake all night.

Uncle Charlie ambushes Rose and kills her (why!!!)

Lucy stays awake all night.

Alfie unknowingly eats toxic berries.

Reb goes to sleep.

Heaven, Lauren , Ava, Tommy, and Nina sleep in shifts.

→ not for the first time Alfie and Rose die the same day or night 😭💔.

Day 3

Jessie Eden overhears Lauren and Uncle Charlie talking in the distance.

Reb runs away from Esme.

Heaven, Sabini, Eva, Tommy, and Nina hunt for other tributes.

Ava receives clean water from an unknown sponsor.

Lucy thinks about home.

Night 3

Reb destroys Nina's supplies while she is asleep.

Uncle Charlie and Lauren run into each other and decide to truce for the night.

Esme strangles Tommy with a rope. (Holy shit!!)

Lucy receives fresh food from an unknown sponsor.

Heaven and Ava tell stories about themselves to each other.

Eva starts a fire.

→ Reb, please!! Poor Nina!! She's your girl!!

Night 5

Nina and Lauren talk about the tributes still alive.

Eva and Reb hold hands.

Ava, Uncle Charlie, and Lucy discuss the games and what might happen in the morning.

Jessie Eden shoots a poisonous blow dart into Heaven's neck, slowly killing her. (The fuck, Jessie 👀!!)

Sabini receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Esme cannot handle the circumstances and commits suicide. (Poor Esme)

The feast

The cornucopia is replenished with food, supplies, weapons, and memoirs from the tributes' families.

Lucy decides not to go to The Feast.

Uncle Charlie decides not to go to The Feast.

Reb, Sabini, Ava, Eva, and Nina track down and kill Lauren .

→ idk, but Ava was after Laur from the first moment 🙃.

Day 6

Eva bleeds out due to untreated injuries.

Uncle Charlie sets Nina on fire with a molotov.

Ava chases Sabini.

Reb travels to higher ground.

Lucy accidently detonates a land mine while trying to arm it.

Arena Event

Monkey mutts fill the arena.

Sabini survives.

Reb survives.

Uncle Charlie uses Ava as a shield from the monkey mutts.

Night 6

Uncle Charlie lets Reb into his shelter. (Please 😂😂)

Sabini falls into a frozen lake and drowns.

Day 7

Reb spears Uncle Charlie in the abdomen. 👀👀

The winner is Reb from District 3!

Good for you @peakyswritings !!! To be honest, uncle Charlie deserved it!! He was out of control!!

#hunger games au

[evita-shelby]

to welcome @moral-terpitude's Quinn Meyer to the hunger games au we have going on, i have decided to dust off the simulator

Aveline and Rose belong to @justrainandcoffee, Nina Ferrante to @peakyswritings , Lucy WInters to @emotionalcadaver , Heaven La@call-sign-shark and @rysko's Juliusz Ferenz

the bloodbath

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.

Luca Changretta shoots an arrow into Tommy Shelby's head.

Matty (eva's tribute) runs away from the Cornucopia.

Isiah Jesus runs into the cornucopia and hides.

Nina Ferrante strangles Quinn Meyer after engaging in a fist fight.

Julisuz Ferenz runs away from the Cornucopia.

Arthur Shelby finds a bag full of explosives.

Esme Lee runs away from the Cornucopia.

John Shelby runs away from the Cornucopia.

Michael Gray runs away from the Cornucopia.

Lizzie Stark and Lucy Winters fight for a bag. Lucy Winters strangles Lizzie Stark with the straps and runs.

Eva Smith runs away from the Cornucopia.

Heaven Lavey retrieves a trident from inside the cornucopia.

Jack Nelson takes a handful of throwing knives.

Rose Coldwell runs away with a lighter and some rope.

Polly Gray runs away from the Cornucopia.

Alfie Solomons runs away from the Cornucopia.

Gina Nelson runs away from the Cornucopia.

Finn Shelby runs away from the Cornucopia.

Linda Shelby runs away from the Cornucopia.

Aveline Young runs away from the Cornucopia.

Johanna Mason finds a bag full of explosives.

day 1

Nina Ferrante begs for Finn Shelby to kill her. He refuses, keeping Nina Ferrante alive.

Aveline Young picks flowers.

Esme Lee strangles Matty (eva's tribute) with a rope.

Eva Smith tends to Lucy Winters's wounds.

Isiah Jesus and Johanna Mason split up to search for resources.

Luca Changretta steals from John Shelby while he isn't looking.

Julisuz Ferenz runs away from Rose Coldwell.

Heaven Lavey overpowers Linda Shelby, killing her.

Arthur Shelby makes a slingshot.

Alfie Solomons picks flowers.

Michael Gray discovers a cave.

Gina Nelson runs away from Polly Gray.

Jack Nelson fishes

night 1

Jack Nelson tries to sing himself to sleep.

Julisuz Ferenz goes to sleep.

Arthur Shelby tends to Gina Nelson's wounds.

Finn Shelby destroys Alfie Solomons's supplies while he is asleep.

Heaven Lavey receives clean water from an unknown sponsor.

Isiah Jesus passes out from exhaustion.

Lucy Winters is awoken by nightmares.

Michael Gray goes to sleep.

Johanna Mason thinks about winning.

Luca Changretta cries himself to sleep.

Aveline Young climbs a tree to rest.

Rose Coldwell receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

John Shelby forces Nina Ferrante to kill Polly Gray or Eva Smith. She decides to kill Polly Gray.

Esme Lee questions her sanity.

day 2

Jack Nelson discovers a river.

Esme Lee sees smoke rising in the distance, but decides not to investigate.

Isiah Jesus receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor.

Aveline Young searches for firewood.

Nina Ferrante receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor.

Luca Changretta discovers a river.

Rose Coldwell attacks Arthur Shelby, but he manages to escape.

Lucy Winters steals from Eva Smith while she isn't looking.

Finn Shelby explores the arena.

Michael Gray explores the arena.

John Shelby, Julisuz Ferenz, and Johanna Mason hunt for other tributes.

Heaven Lavey discovers a cave.

Gina Nelson goes hunting.

Alfie Solomons collects fruit from a tree.

night 2

Johanna Mason thinks about winning.

Arthur Shelby and Gina Nelson huddle for warmth.

Michael Gray and John Shelby hold hands.

Luca Changretta is awoken by nightmares.

Eva Smith thinks about winning.

Esme Lee and Lucy Winters huddle for warmth.

Rose Coldwell lets Isiah Jesus into her shelter.

Heaven Lavey stays awake all night.

Julisuz Ferenz tries to sing himself to sleep.

Nina Ferrante tends to her wounds.

Aveline Young, Finn Shelby, and Jack Nelson cheerfully sing songs together.

Alfie Solomons tries to sing himself to sleep.

day 3

Heaven Lavey explores the arena.

Eva Smith begs for Gina Nelson to kill her. He refuses, keeping Eva Smith alive.

Alfie Solomons, Esme Lee, Aveline Young, and Johanna Mason raid Jack Nelson's camp while he is hunting.

Julisuz Ferenz picks flowers.

Lucy Winters tends to Isiah Jesus's wounds.

Rose Coldwell and Nina Ferrante work together for the day.

Luca Changretta questions his sanity.

John Shelby attacks Finn Shelby, but he manages to escape.

Arthur Shelby and Michael Gray hunt for other tributes.

night 3

Michael Gray stays awake all night.

Heaven Lavey and Lucy Winters tell stories about themselves to each other.

Finn Shelby is unable to start a fire and sleeps without warmth.

Rose Coldwell and Eva Smith tell stories about themselves to each other.

Gina Nelson passes out from exhaustion.

Alfie Solomons tries to sing himself to sleep.

Isiah Jesus and Johanna Mason huddle for warmth.

Julisuz Ferenz lets Aveline Young into his shelter.

Jack Nelson, Esme Lee, Nina Ferrante, Luca Changretta, and John Shelby sleep in shifts.

Arthur Shelby looks at the night sky.

day 4

Nina Ferrante practices her archery.

Lucy Winters receives a hatchet from an unknown sponsor.

Eva Smith and Gina Nelson work together for the day.

Julisuz Ferenz travels to higher ground.

Jack Nelson and Isiah Jesus threaten a double suicide. It fails and they die.

Alfie Solomons practices his archery.

Michael Gray scares Arthur Shelby off.

Heaven Lavey and Finn Shelby split up to search for resources.

Rose Coldwell and Johanna Mason work together to drown Aveline Young.

Esme Lee begs for Luca Changretta to kill her. He refuses, keeping Esme Lee alive.

John Shelby questions his sanity.

arena event

A fire spreads throughout the arena.

Julisuz Ferenz and Luca Changretta fail to find a safe spot and suffocate.

Heaven Lavey survives.

Nina Ferrante survives.

John Shelby and Esme Lee fail to find a safe spot and suffocate.

Lucy Winters falls to the ground, but kicks Rose Coldwell hard enough to then push her into the fire.

The fire catches up to Michael Gray, killing him.

Gina Nelson kills Eva Smith in order to utilize a body of water safely.

Johanna Mason survives.

A fireball strikes Arthur Shelby, killing him.

The fire catches up to Finn Shelby, killing him.

The fire catches up to Alfie Solomons, killing him.

night 4

Lucy Winters begs for Nina Ferrante to kill her. She refuses, keeping Lucy Winters alive.

Johanna Mason begs for Gina Nelson to kill her. He refuses, keeping Johanna Mason alive.

Heaven Lavey sees a fire, but stays hidden.

the feast

The cornucopia is replenished with food, supplies, weapons, and memoirs from the tributes' families.

Heaven Lavey falls into a frozen lake and drowns.

Gina Nelson decides not to go to The Feast.

Johanna Mason stabs Nina Ferrante while her back is turned.

Lucy Winters decides not to go to The Feast.

day 5

Lucy Winters questions her sanity.

Gina Nelson and Johanna Mason work together for the day.

night 5

Lucy Winters passes out from exhaustion.

Johanna Mason falls into a pit and dies.

Gina Nelson dies from hypothermia.

The winner is Lucy Winters from District 12!

#evacore #hunger games au

[notyour-valentine]

Congrats on your celebration. I loved LOVED Don't forget to smile so could you do some headcanons for modern Tommy and please write a part two! Thanks boo

modern!Tommy Shelby ~ General Headcanons

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Warning: Mention of violence, drug use

I don't see Tommy going to war., at least not with the army. There was no need to conscript soldiers, and he is not the type of person to choose the army for a career path. I'd see Arthur and maybe even John doing that, but I'm not sure about them either. 

However, I see them getting their 'warfare' experience from UK gang wars 

Even so, they aren't as traumatised as they are in the show, even if they are still struggling because of the life they live and so Tommy would have retained some of his pre!war persona and we would see more of his cheeky side.

Modern!Tommy still loves horses and would have wanted to work with them and maybe become a professional equestrian but he sees the mistreatment of horses and becomes an activist in his youth (not necessarily animal rights in general, but horses rights)

And by activist, I mean slashing tyres, spraying graffiti, causing mayhem at the races as a teenager. That's how he met Greta and where he learns a lot of oganizing and sabotating skills

I still think the family would start with illegal gambling but on football games and not horse races

Tommy's expansion would be to start fixing boxing matches and MMA fights to make money while getting legal licences. They also take over strip clubs (and absolutely weed out human trafficking thanks to Polly's and Lizzie's input)

Within years he makes them the UKs gambling monopoly but also runs all those online casinos, betting apps etc (you know- the ones with the annoying ads) which takes them global

I still see him involved with trade and shipping and maybe manufacturing too but more in regards to technology and development. And of course, they are in the drugs business

They are UFC shareholders as well as all other MMA and boxing governing bodies and absolutely keep fixing fights. They also fix football matches and sponsor an F1 team (I want to say RedBull based on the Seb era but who knows?)

He is also hugely involved in real estate and housing

This Tommy would not get involved in active politics, even if he loses his mind over current, especially UK politics (when Brexit hits, he can't fathom the stupidity, the damages to his business and economy, and the general government incompetence)

Instead, he focuses on activism, like funding school lunches for poor children through their foundation 

The 21st century is still classit but not as much as in the 20s, so he has more movement there. There would be far more discrimination in regards to his Irish Traveller background 

The expansion to the US is far earlier. 

Modern!Tommy is just as overworked as canon!Tommy if not more so due to the constant availability of our time so he still smokes, takes drugs and a lot of sleeping pills. 

He does not have any social media and lives completely off the grid, not even a newspaper interview, which makes him a phenomenon, a ghost and an icon for the crypto bros. 

He has a vintage car and motorcycle collection but his biggest treasure is a large horse ranch in the middle of nowhere where he keeps close to a hundred horses, either older horses or former race horses, which he keeps buying up. It's a gigantic facility and is absolutely not profitable (apart for a bit of money laundering) but giving the horses a calm place where they are well taken care of (kind of like a retirement home for horses) is his passion project.

Modern!Tommy has tattoo sleeves, definitely, but he would rather walk on broken glass before he puts on a SmartWatch or drinks a green smoothie

His lockscreen is either a childhood picture of him and Ada on a horse or just a black screen

Bonus fact:

On at least one occasion he has definitely shot his Tablet during a stressful day because the "Sorry- I didn't quite catch that" came at the wrong moment. 

Thank you so much for participating in my celebration - I hope you like what I've written for you! I'll have to see about that Part 2. I know a lot of people like that story but I have a lot of other WIPs in the works, but it won't be forgotten

If you want to join in, click here to find out everything you need to know!

~

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @alex-in-the-wilderness @butterfly-skinnylegend

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist 

@lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul

#valentines1k #valentinesheadcanons #join me for a drink #modern!Tommy #modern!Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby imagine #modern!Tommy Shelby imagine #modern Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

My Christmas gifts (that I can’t promise will come out on Christmas lmao or that all of these will be written) feel free to vote on what you want at least one will have a chapter tomorrow guarantee. Ends 14 hours bc that’s when I’ll have time and I’m not staying up to write and post at almost end of Christmas

A) Kayne coffee shop au crack fic.

B) Orv they get the oldest dream but it only ever remembers being a sponsor

C) Orv crack fic where Joonghyuk proposes but like. On a deranged way bc. It’s Joonghyuk.

D) Kayne kidnapping alternate universe Arthur and John bc that idea is still insane to me that the ones preforming this don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about or who he is

E) Orv scenerios don’t happen and Sangah stops Dokja from killing himself

F) Mob of mob psycho and reigen. That’s it just like when they first meet from reigens pov and a few weeks after that.

G) This fic is only a maybe? But random characters interacting positively with ???% let me know who you want

#orv #malevolent #mob psycho 100

[emotionalcadaver]

Jumping on the bandwagon with this one! Shout out to @justrainandcoffee for finding this! Also tagging my other Hunger Games AU peeps @evita-shelby, @call-sign-shark, @peakyswritings, and @lunarubra!

Simulation can be found here!

The Bloodbath

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.

Freddie Thorne runs away from the Cornucopia.

Aveline Young runs away from the Cornucopia.

Arthur Shelby runs away from the Cornucopia.

Heaven Lavey grabs a backpack and retreats.

Jack Nelson finds a backpack full of camping equipment.

Tommy Shelby runs away from the Cornucopia.

Luca Changretta runs away from the Cornucopia.

Gina Nelson grabs a backpack, not realizing it is empty.

May Carleton, Michael Gray, and Polly Gray get into a fight. Polly Gray triumphantly kills them both.

Johnny Dogs runs away from the Cornucopia.

Charlie Strong snatches a bottle of alcohol and a rag.

Lucy Winters runs away from the Cornucopia.

Alfie Solomons scares Johanna Mason away from the cornucopia.

Finn Shelby runs away from the Cornucopia.

Grace Burgess takes a handful of throwing knives.

John Shelby and Rose Coldwell fight for a bag. Rose Coldwell gives up and retreats.

Isiah Jesus and Ada Shelby fight for a bag. Ada Shelby gives up and retreats.

Eva Smith snatches a bottle of alcohol and a rag.

Nina Ferrante clutches a first aid kit and runs away.

Day 1

Gina Nelson camouflauges herself in the bushes.

Alfie Solomons stalks Johanna Mason.

Rose Coldwell goes hunting.

Nina Ferrante runs away from Jack Nelson.

Grace Burgess tries to spear fish with a trident.

Eva Smith receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Luca Changretta runs away from Freddie Thorne.

Ada Shelby receives clean water from an unknown sponsor.

Arthur Shelby diverts Lucy Winters's attention and runs away.

Finn Shelby scares Johnny Dogs off.

Charlie Strong questions his sanity.

John Shelby, Tommy Shelby, and Polly Gray hunt for other tributes.

Aveline Young pushes Isiah Jesus off a cliff during a knife fight.

Heaven Lavey hunts for other tributes.

Fallen Tributes

3 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

May Carleton District 4 Michael Gray District 3 Isiah Jesus District 11

Night 1

Heaven Lavey, Jack Nelson, and Aveline Young sleep in shifts.

Charlie Strong screams for help.

Finn Shelby receives fresh food from an unknown sponsor.

Johnny Dogs questions his sanity.

Alfie Solomons loses sight of where he is.

Polly Gray tends to Freddie Thorne's wounds.

Luca Changretta receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor.

Johanna Mason receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Eva Smith and Ada Shelby tell stories about themselves to each other.

Tommy Shelby and Lucy Winters huddle for warmth.

Grace Burgess thinks about home.

John Shelby cooks his food before putting his fire out.

Nina Ferrante, Rose Coldwell, Gina Nelson, and Arthur Shelby tell each other ghost stories to lighten the mood.

*slams hands on desk* Lucy x Tommy is canon you guys my babies are cuddling sajfhsdjkgfhsd 😭😭😭

Day 2

Charlie Strong questions his sanity.

Ada Shelby, Freddie Thorne, Aveline Young, Johnny Dogs, and Polly Gray hunt for other tributes.

Rose Coldwell collects fruit from a tree.

Tommy Shelby and Gina Nelson work together for the day.

Alfie Solomons camouflauges himself in the bushes.

Grace Burgess tries to spear fish with a trident.

Arthur Shelby runs away from Jack Nelson.

Johanna Mason scares Lucy Winters off.

Nina Ferrante, Finn Shelby, Eva Smith, and Heaven Lavey hunt for other tributes.

Luca Changretta hunts for other tributes.

John Shelby makes a wooden spear.

Night 2

Johnny Dogs fends Polly Gray, Grace Burgess, and Luca Changretta away from his fire.

Nina Ferrante stabs Freddie Thorne in the back with a trident.

Finn Shelby overpowers Heaven Lavey, killing her.

Alfie Solomons and Aveline Young sleep in shifts.

Lucy Winters decapitates Rose Coldwell with a sword.

Tommy Shelby screams for help.

Jack Nelson goes to sleep.

Johanna Mason receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Arthur Shelby tends to Charlie Strong's wounds.

Ada Shelby, John Shelby, and Eva Smith sleep in shifts.

Gina Nelson attempts to start a fire, but is unsuccessful.

@call-sign-shark Finn overpowering Heaven has got to be the most hilariously ooc things I've ever heard. As if he would ever actually stand a chance against her. And @justrainandcoffee oh my god please tell Rosie that Lucy is SO SORRY she doesn't know what came over her 🫣

Day 3

Gina Nelson scares Grace Burgess off.

Nina Ferrante tends to Finn Shelby's wounds.

Arthur Shelby receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor.

Charlie Strong bashes Luca Changretta's head in with a mace.

Ada Shelby hunts for other tributes.

Johnny Dogs goes hunting.

Tommy Shelby diverts John Shelby's attention and runs away.

Aveline Young defeats Polly Gray in a fight, but spares her life.

Lucy Winters receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor.

Eva Smith sees smoke rising in the distance, but decides not to investigate.

Jack Nelson and Johanna Mason work together to drown Alfie Solomons.

Fallen Tributes

5 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Freddie Thorne District 5 Heaven Lavey District 7 Rose Coldwell District 8 Luca Changretta District 1 Alfie Solomons District 9

Night 3

Charlie Strong thinks about home.

Eva Smith, Tommy Shelby, and Jack Nelson sleep in shifts.

John Shelby sees a fire, but stays hidden.

Polly Gray questions her sanity.

Nina Ferrante climbs a tree to rest.

Lucy Winters passes out from exhaustion.

Aveline Young screams for help.

Grace Burgess, Finn Shelby, Gina Nelson, and Johanna Mason sleep in shifts.

Ada Shelby receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Arthur Shelby sets up camp for the night.

Johnny Dogs questions his sanity.

Day 4

Johnny Dogs, Ada Shelby, Lucy Winters, John Shelby, and Arthur Shelby hunt for other tributes.

Aveline Young constructs a shack.

Grace Burgess travels to higher ground.

Eva Smith is pricked by thorns while picking berries.

Polly Gray travels to higher ground.

Tommy Shelby and Johanna Mason fight Gina Nelson and Jack Nelson. Gina Nelson and Jack Nelson survive.

Nina Ferrante kills Charlie Strong for his supplies.

Finn Shelby explores the arena.

Fallen Tributes

3 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Tommy Shelby District 12 Johanna Mason District 7 Charlie Strong District 4

Night 4

Aveline Young bleeds out due to untreated injuries.

Arthur Shelby receives fresh food from an unknown sponsor.

Lucy Winters, Finn Shelby, Grace Burgess, Polly Gray, and John Shelby sleep in shifts.

Gina Nelson and Johnny Dogs talk about the tributes still alive.

Nina Ferrante tries to treat her infection.

Ada Shelby dies from thirst.

Eva Smith and Jack Nelson tell stories about themselves to each other.

@evita-shelby Do I sense something potentially happening between Eva and Jack? 👀

Day 5

John Shelby stalks Lucy Winters.

Gina Nelson constructs a shack.

Polly Gray severely slices Nina Ferrante with a sword.

Grace Burgess fishes.

Finn Shelby attacks Jack Nelson, but he manages to escape.

Eva Smith questions her sanity.

Johnny Dogs dies from thirst.

Arthur Shelby makes a slingshot.

Fallen Tributes

4 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Aveline Young District 11 Ada Shelby District 6 Nina Ferrante District 9 Johnny Dogs District 10

Night 5

Finn Shelby and Gina Nelson talk about the tributes still alive.

Arthur Shelby, Polly Gray, and Grace Burgess get into a fight. Grace Burgess triumphantly kills them both.

Lucy Winters forces John Shelby to kill Eva Smith or Jack Nelson. He decides to kill Eva Smith.

The Feast

The cornucopia is replenished with food, supplies, weapons, and memoirs from the tributes' families.

Gina Nelson decides not to go to The Feast.

John Shelby decides not to go to The Feast.

Finn Shelby decides not to go to The Feast.

Jack Nelson and Grace Burgess get into a fight over raw meat, but Jack Nelson gives up and runs away.

Lucy Winters decides not to go to The Feast.

Day 6

Gina Nelson discovers a river.

John Shelby goes hunting.

Grace Burgess attacks Jack Nelson, but he manages to escape.

Finn Shelby sprains his ankle while running away from Lucy Winters.

Arena Event

Monkey mutts fill the arena.

Lucy Winters dies from internal bleeding caused by a monkey mutt.

Grace Burgess dies from internal bleeding caused by a monkey mutt.

Gina Nelson uses Finn Shelby as a shield from the monkey mutts.

John Shelby survives.

Jack Nelson survives.

Noooo my girl 😭 At least she made it pretty far!

Fallen Tributes

6 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Arthur Shelby District 6 Polly Gray District 3 Eva Smith District 10 Lucy Winters District 12 Grace Burgess District 1 Finn Shelby District 8

Night 6

John Shelby receives clean water from an unknown sponsor.

Gina Nelson destroys Jack Nelson's supplies while he is asleep.

Day 7

John Shelby shoots an arrow into Jack Nelson's head.

Gina Nelson cannot handle the circumstances and commits suicide.

Fallen Tributes

2 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Jack Nelson District 2 Gina Nelson District 2

The Winner

The winner is John Shelby from District 5!

#the hunger games au

[unhonestlymirror]

It's a shame that I, as a Ukrainian, never wrote what I think about russia's name in hetalia.

Because it's so damn lifeless. XD I see plenty of people referring to Ukraine as Katyusha (nickname made from russian Yekaterina, has nothing to do with Ukraine) and to Belarus as Natasha (russified nickname, which appeared, according to russian sources, in the 18th century, and according to American sources, in 1965, has nothing to do with Belarus) - but, for some reason, Great Russia doesn't want to have 100% russian name:

Ivan is the name of ancient Hebrew origin, which translates as "Mercy of God." It is formed from the ancient form of Ioann. This name is definitely older than russia itself. This name is commonly used in Ukrainian and Belaruthian folk songs, this name is used to refer to Ivana Kupala celebration: the name arose at a time when the Christian church wanted to replace a pagan holiday with a new religion.

Not even England has such an average name: it's like if they used John Brown instead of Arthur Kirkland.

Now about the surname: and I will use quotes from russian(!) sources:

The surname Braginsky belongs to a common type of Jewish surnames.

The Jews of the Russian Empire began to be given surnames at the end of the 18th century, after the western regions of Belarus, Ukraine and the Baltic states were annexed to the Russian Empire - after the partition of Poland.

Then Catherine II "acquired" along with the western regions a huge number of Jews who historically did not have surnames, but only a first name and patronymic, for example, "Moishe, son of Shmelke."

And my favourite:

"So, the surname Braginsky owes its origin to the urban settlement of Bragin - at present, it is the regional centre of the Gomel region of the Republic of Belarus. The settlement was founded in the 16th century."

Gomel region? The region from which locals like to joke that they use Ukrainian with Belaruthian letters? (Lots of my relatives are from there, and some of them even identify themselves as Ukrainians).

What an interesting name for personification of russia to have. Especially considering how much russia hates both Jews, Ukrainians, and Belaruthians. This name literally screams: "Look, I am not a nazi." And I really doubt Hidekaz Himaruya, who clearly isn't versed in never-soviet countries' culture, would choose this name without influence from his sponsors.

If russia loves its culture so much, why did they choose what they chose? Why doesn't its personification have a perfectly russian name? I will even translate some of the greatest examples for you:

Dalis - Да здравствуют Ленин и Сталин!Long live Lenin and Stalin!

Delezh — Дело Ленина живёт! The deed of Lenin lives!

Deleor — Дело Ленина — Октябрьская революция! The deed of Lenin -- October Revolution!

Dazdrasen — Да здравствует Седьмое ноября! Long live November 7th!

Avtodor -- Общество содействия развитию автомобилизма и улучшению дорог. Society for the Promotion of Motoring and Road Improvement

Agitprop -- Отдел агитации и пропаганды при ЦК ВКП (б). Department of Agitation and Propaganda under the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks

Glasp -- гласность печати. Publicity of the press.

Karmiy -- Красная Армия. Red Army.

Kid -- коммунистический идеал. Communist ideal.

Kravasil -- Красная армия всех сильней!The Red Army is the strongest of all!

Kukutsapol -- "Кукуруза — царица полей!" Corn - the queen of the fields!

Piachegod -- "Пятилетку — в четыре года!" "Five-Year Plan - in four years!"

Revvol — революционная воля - revolutionary will

Revdar — революционный дар revolutionary gift

Yurgoz -- Юрий Гагарин облетел Землю -- Yuri Gagarin circled the Earth

Zamvil — заместитель В. И. Ленина -- Deputy of V. I. Lenin

Idlen -- Ideas of Lenin

Vidlen - Great ideas of Lenin

Vinun — "Владимир Ильич не умрёт никогда" -- "Vladimir Ilyich (Lenin) will never die"

Lunio – "Ленин умер, но идеи остались" - Lenin died, but the ideas remained!"

Lelud — Ленин любит детей -- Lenin loves children

Lengenmir -- "Ленин - гений мира!" -- "Lenin - the genius of the world!"

Lestak - Lenin, Stalin, communism!

Pofistal – Победитель фашизма Иосиф Сталин -- "The winner of fascism, Joseph Stalin."

Yausyaukh – "Я устал, я ухожу" - "I'm tired, I'm leaving."

Porof - Позор российскому футболу - Shame on Russian football.

Motevsor - мочить террористов в сортире - kill terrorists in the toilet.

Dogzeb -- "Догзеб – Доллар – грязная зеленая бумажка" - "Dollar is a dirty green paper"

And it's only a little part of what exists. If there are so many great, purely russian names, why to name russia after "stupid khokhols" (russian slur about Ukrainians) or "bulbashi" (russian slur about Belaruthians) or "zhydy"(russian slur about Jewish)?

#hetalia #tw: hws aph russia #hws ukraine #aph ukraine #hws belarus #aph belarus

[brassandblue]

“I had to disappear, I didn’t have a choice.” Sir John @ Arthur 👀

"You broke her heart!" Arthur snapped, forgetting himself in his flustered state.

"My mother--She always spoke so highly of you, even after you were gone. It was because of you that I joined the Royal Navy and my cousin's famliy sponsored me. She... she passed when I was twelve," he added, ducking his head briefly as he fingered the open locket in his hands--the one containing the portraits of Franklin and his own mother. Arthur had now carried that locket to both ends of the earth, both poles, for her. And for him.

'I'd hoped, perhaps, I could prove myself worthy of knowing you, without being a source of shame. I-I--don't want money, Sir, or--recognition. I only want to know you, that's all I've ever wanted."

With wide green eyes, he peered up at Sir John again, hoping against all hope that this might be the moment he would finally be accepted by the father he'd never known.

#CAN THIS BE WHEN ARTHUR TELLS HIM THE TRUTH and Franklin's like #oh no #oh NOOO #WELL WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES LIEUTENANT #8);;;;;; #we can always have them reconcile later ;3; #.// (ic: arthur) #.// au: franklin's (other) folly #hope-on-hope-ever: sir john

[zooterchet]

Enemies Defeated (Proles of France, Israel, and Britain)

Rory Ahlquist: Rabbinical Agnew, Japanese ninjitsu, beekeepers; the Angiulo investment, the US Navy plying Rabbinical vendor's trades out of sportswriter's unions.

Alice Charlebois: A Bogota garments syndicate assassin, having turned to Likud Israel, having been bribed with commerce from the "Harry Potter" books, of whom I have been featured as Harry Potter, a homosexual child molester, a Rabbi or any such other membership in a Rotary Lodge, a fraternal cocaine dealer; Albert Einstein's organization, the Nation-State of Israel; faced by my grandfather, Allen Dulles, under assumed alias; actually Radu Thorne, a Stuka Ju 57 pilot, a Junker's divebomber, having hit Guernica for pleasure alone.

Carlin Sarkesian: The Yeltsin arms combine, weapons caches for Jewish children, adopting to the gay identity, to shoot up "Christians", men and women rejecting them for sexual coitus, having expected a pickup artists' book to be the answer to impregnating a woman, instead of "mutual masturbation", fetish sex, the alternative to abstinence demands of some Parishes; rape, given copulation, a Promenades dance; controlled by Canadian Intelligence, the poorly appraised society that never happened.

Philip Enfield: Alias, "Alex Fleming", "Flem", or "Misery", locked up at outside call to police; the Insane Clown Posse, Fight Club, MTV, and Ronald Reagan, revealed to be a work of the Charlebois family, "Hitler Doesn't Smoke", Adolf Hitler's campaign against cigarettes in 1931, to win him Reichstag's Assembly, in Chancellorship of Germany, and later, America, through universities, the University President changed to title of "Chancellor".

Nicholas Maynard: Placed in a permanent fugue state, as a female transexual Bourbon, upon rooming, triggered schizophreniform break, for three and a half hours; blue lotus, a potent Japanese drug, to take a car accident driver down from "shabu", ice, methamphetamine, used by MI-6 and SIS operatives on Asian highways to compensate for the rigid driving machinas needed in the United States, not used in Asia, for far safer roads; outside of the gay rights movements, of those "queer", pedophiles, those seeking sex tourism, instead of their own local prostitutes; those women of influence, law and medical degrees, seeking gigalo, a man into the same trade as them, "homophobes", the heterosexual variety of man grown so rare after Lutheran anti-Semites of Holocaust's ilk, have prohibited Zen; stock broker's numbers, no less, refusing peanut butter, a common child molester thinking his allergy from refusing chocolate, is an actual dietary impediment.

Richard Coughlin: A Hitler Youth, the British fire marshal; the kin of JK Rowling, and through her, Hitler and CS Lewis and Arthur C. Clarke. Guilty of placing a banking derivative, "tools have their uses", to confuse India and DC Comics, the FBI investment, for both, on sales to Berkshire Hathaway, an enemy firm out of the British North Irish, the Arab-Fenian Guilds of Boston and holders of Canada, beneath their Lutheran Sunni grip; not Vatican Zen Arabs, the preferred in New England, particularly our athletes rumored to be of Hispanic or Latino blood.

John Washburne: Alias, "Cusack", remanded to prison sentence, for causing the death of Sandi MacDonald, NSA and Catholic Zen, out of Sudanese Egypt, oppressed by Whitey Bulger's demand of Islam practiced for "Arab" states, his booking and banking numbers.  John Washburne, a Queen's Tory, a loyalist, is still in jail, at a military psychiatric ward, being tormented by black prisoners of Arab blood, screaming at him at all hours, for having them converted to Islam, Hitler's religion, as well as Jesus Christ and Muhammad, three cast-outs of utter loathsomeness, the Chilton's family brides.

Saddam Hussein: An MI-6 booking agent, once denied holdership of Israel and Iraq and Iran, by my mother's will alone, instead held as an Arab Olympics sponsor to doom Soviet investments; the Soviets being British intelligence Russians, held as such since Brezhnev, and with Saddam and Yeltsin's defeats, the new Republic of Russia, under Vladimir Putin, separate from the Federal Republic of Germany and the Nobel Prize union of Scandinavia. Put on trial, to prove he was not Gohan, the son of a CIA, Goku; in fact, an MI-6, the entire Dragonball series, an exploration in the myths of the CIA, the slowly acquitted and docile country life, of a Nazi, a Korean Northerner.

Keith Velasquez: Holland "NORML", spray of marijuana, fake or otherwise, with Lysol, Pinesol, Raid, or hairspray; found dead in woods, by Essex County police deputies, tree surgeon appointed to monitor safety of marijuana, sold out of state police tax stamps.  Indictment, of Goldman-Sachs, Trump Organization, Saks Fifth Avenue, Nieman Marcus, Macy's, D-Company, Dawood Ibrahim, and Amsterdam Dutch, by lawyers from Gaetano Savings and Loan, Biden's accounts out of the Capone Crime Family; "crime family', indicating service under British Empire goals, out of Westminster Abbey, high value to American intelligence, at potential loss of life threatened from police special forces for interdicting or threatening "crime family" members.

Elizabeth II of Tudor: The agent of George Soros, through Irish Protestants; those Catholics, of Catechism, accepting liturgy instead, and refusing the kneeler, to prevent anal sodomey or the offer of oral pleasure, instead plying their trade as poisoners of meat and practicioners of Pentacost, Purim, and Vigil. Those finding themselves to be in purchase of labor, as if a contract is to be bought on finder's fee, with contract labor guaranteeing loyalty, instead of full control in committee and payment, outside of Ban Ki-Moon's concepts of control of market, the North American Man Boy Love Association (NAMBLA, the British Presbyterians, of Scotland and Korea and Sweden, Asatru as the combined faith's name under Catholic alms).

[omarmueller66]

It Attained Gold Document Status In 2023

The chances of the values of gold tumbling are a lot less as in comparison with the worth of the currency. Following an unsuccessful try on Arthur's life and Tommy's remaining outmanoeuvring of Changretta, Tommy confronts Alfie for his betrayal. Roth described American Pastoral and the 2 following novels as a loosely related "American trilogy". Lewis's Ransom Trilogy. College of Massachusetts Press. best gold ira companies , author, biographer and historian; in Attleboro, Massachusetts (d. Leitch, Vincent B.; Cain, William E.; Finke, Laurie A.; Johnson, Barbara E.; McGowan, John; Williams, Jeffrey J. (2001). "William Okay. Wimsatt Jr. and Monroe C. Beardsley". The Davidson Faculty provides both grasp's and doctoral levels.

In 1969, Arnold H. Lubasch wrote in The brand new York Instances that the varsity "has supplied the main focus for the fiction of Philip Roth, the novelist who evokes his period at Weequahic High school within the highly acclaimed Portnoy's Complaint. Besides identifying Weequahic High school by name, the novel specifies such websites as the Empire Burlesque, the Weequahic Diner, the Newark Museum and Irvington Park, all local landmarks that helped form the youth of the true Roth and the fictional Portnoy, each graduates of Weequahic class of '50." The 1950 Weequahic Yearbook calls Roth a "boy of real intelligence, combined with wit and customary sense." He was often known as a comedian during his time in school. Kern was upset as a result of he thought that "Blues in the Evening" by Harold Arlen (Music) and Johnny Mercer (lyrics) ought to have gained. Nome is talked about twice in the lyrics. The Hope Sled Dog Race was run between Anadyr, Russia, and Nome after the fall of the Soviet Union. Calcutta Municipal Gazette. Superintendent of Printing, Corporation Press. Ulysses Press. 2011. p. Oxford College Press. 2004. doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/36364. The award has solely been given to songs in languages apart from English four instances: in 1960 for "Never on Sunday" (Greek title "Ta Pediá tou Pireá") from By no means on Sunday, in 2004 for the Spanish music "Al otro lado del río" from The Motorcycle Diaries, in 2008 for the Hindi song "Jai Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire, and in 2022 for the Telugu music "Naatu Naatu" from RRR.

Although this album was compiled and released by Capitol Data, the tune "Night and Day" introduced here isn't the Capitol model, however the 1962 Reprise model from the album Sinatra and Strings. For instance, in 1965, Robert Goulet performed all the nominated songs on the ceremony. It was introduced soon after that Kendrick Lamar and SZA would now not perform on account of "logistics and timing" issues, making "All the Stars" the one nominee of the 4 not to be carried out live. For his birthday, Mrs. Little one provides him the Zangler theater (Zangler has used all his money on the show in Deadrock). You possibly can switch cash over from a monetary account, rollover a 401k, or via several other means. February - the statue of Eros is taken away from Piccadilly Circus in London so that the new Underground station will be constructed.

Brooklyn Every day Eagle, sponsored his appearance on New York City's WVP radio station. However, circumstances in both winter and summer season are moderated by the town's coastal location; winters are much less extreme than in the Interior, and conversely, summers are lukewarm. A bomb assault at a dinner for members of Hungary's "Democratic Membership" in Budapest killed eight individuals. Alfie is seen when Tommy visits him and proclaims the demise of his uncle Charlie on the Cotton Membership by the hands of Jack Nelson's (James Frecheville) gang from south Boston. best gold ira companies makes its debut on BBC2, starring Paul Whitehouse, Charlie Higson, Simon Day, Mark Williams, John Thomson, Caroline Aherne and Arabella Weir. Michael Crichton (as John Lange), Binary (1972) - suspense novel a couple of U.S.

#gold ira

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Uh-oh, I'm back on my self-indulgence

—-

Psst: it’s ready!

AO3 || Tumblr

Anybody want a feel-good one-shot Malevolent fic involving thought-provoking movies, surprise visits, brutal murder, and Arthur being REALLY clever?

I need to read it over again, but I think it'll be ready to post tonight.

Have a snippet.

Full story coming tonight!

--------

The movie is called Dancing Lady, and Arthur already knows nothing will ever be made like it again once the Hays Code has its way.

It’s a ridiculous love triangle, a “tarnished” woman (a concept Arthur finds absurd) torn between a rich sponsor and a poor lover, both of whom, at least, see her talent for what it is.

There are some scenes in this one. At one point, Clark Gable massages Joan Crawford’s leg, raising it above his shoulder, only hinting at the things that must surely be on display from Gable’s point of view.

Yowza.

It’s hard not to imagine Joan Crawford making the kinds of faces John describes, and Arthur can’t help a little bit of distracting response.

He focuses on his popcorn instead of anything else prone to explode.

“Those guys are a lot of silk hats and silk socks with nothing between,” says Clark Gable on screen, and Arthur laughs.

John huffs. Why are they being so particular about this?  

“Particular about what?” says Arthur.

Tod, Patch, Janie. Why the fuck doesn’t she just lie with both of them? Why do they give a fuck?

Arthur is completely taken aback. “Well, it… I mean… she can’t do that.”

Why not?

Arthur has never in his life considered this question.

It’s about offspring, John decides.

“Ah… no, it’s not really - “

They demand monogamy so there can be no question of inheritance.

“She’s a dancing girl. She has nothing to inherit.”

Sure, but Tod does.

“Yes, but… that isn’t it, John.”

Then what is?

Arthur’s really not sure how to answer. What’s he going to say? That it isn’t the Christian thing to do? “I… it just isn’t done that way. Generally.”

Though in his musician days, he witnessed some truly unique romantic configurations.

It’s a lot to think about.

Stupid, pronounces John with fiendish delight, and continues to tell Arthur everything that’s happening on screen even though Arthur does not reply.

#

In February, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur sighs. “John. I’ve been fucking stabbed.”

Only a little, says John. The three stitches are fine. You’re fine.

He is fine, honestly. It wasn’t that bad, and in the end, they took out the giant bug-thing that poked him.

He’s pretty sure he isn’t poisoned. Maybe that alone deserves celebration.

Arthur sighs. “Well. I suppose an evening of distraction isn’t such a terrible idea.”

Of course it’s not a terrible idea. It’s mine.

Arthur rolls his useless eyes, but can’t help a little smile. 

#

This movie, though. This movie hits a little different.

Death Takes a Holiday is about Death himself, who is tired of being misunderstood, and decides to go slumming among humans for a few days to see if he can figure out why.

And he falls in love. 

With a human.

Which can’t end well for that poor lady.

Arthur forgets his popcorn.

The drama is absolutely contrived and thoroughly effective.The struggles of the inhuman to understand the human - 

The choice of the human to understand the strange -

“And tonight, I must go back to my distant kingdom,” says Fredric March, whose portrayal of Death is passionate, quiet-spoken, and rife with tortured drama.

“Will you take me with you?” says Evelyn Venable, who plays Grazia, the love interest, and whose name means grace.

“Take you?” says Death, who is pretending to be something he is not, who is carrying on a wild con with the goal of… enlightenment? “Take you? I should be so unhappy alone. Take you? Oh, no, no… don’t tempt me. But Grazia, give me one hour of you - let me hold you once, and feel your life.”

Holy shit, Arthur thinks, because he’s pretty sure he knows how Grazia feels.

Sort of. He’s no damsel, and whatever he and John are isn’t romantic, but still?

“Now you see me as I am,” says Death, at last revealed as shadow, as monster, as darkly divine.

“But I've always seen you like that! You haven't changed,” says Grazia.

She chooses him, knowing what he is.

She chooses him, knowing what it will cost.

The music swells, and Arthur finds himself tearing up. “Then there is a love which casts out fear, and I have found it! And love is greater than illusion… and as strong as death!”

John cheers. She goes with him! She went with him! Yes, Arthur!

Does John see the parallels, too?

Arthur isn’t brave enough to ask.

He wipes his eyes, amazed, moved. Almost envious of that stupid made-up girl.

Yeah. This one hit different. 

He can’t help wondering, silly as it is, if this movie was based on something that really happened.

Death and Grazia, reaching across the gap.

It’s not him and John.

But then, who can say just what they are?

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent pod #malevolent podcast #malevolent arthur #malevolent kayne #malevolent john

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

SHOULD ANYONE WITH A PAST TO NAZI GERMANY REALLY BE TRUSTED IN THE AFFAIRS OF HUMANITY?

PIC INFO: Spotlight on World Economic Forum founder and driving force behind the so-called "Great Reset", Charles Schwab, mashed with the nefarious, unnamed alien species in John Carpenter's "They Live" (1988). Artwork by Hal Hefner, c. 2021.

"Is the real Klaus Schwab a kindly old uncle figure wishing to do good for humanity, or is he really the son of a Nazi collaborator who used slave labour and aided Nazi efforts to obtain the first atomic bomb? Johnny Vedmore investigates."

-- UNLIMITED HANGOUT, "Schwab Family Values," by Johnny Vedmore, published February 20, 2021

OVERVIEW: "On the morning of 11 September 2001, Klaus Schwab sat having breakfast in the Park East Synagogue in New York City with Rabbi Arthur Schneier, former Vice President for the World Jewish Congress and close associate of the Bronfman and Lauder families. Together, the two men watched one of the most impactful events of the next twenty years unfold as planes struck the World Trade Center buildings. Now, two decades on, Klaus Schwab again sits in a front row seat of yet another generation-defining moment in modern human history.

PART I: Always seeming to have a front row seat when tragedy approaches, Schwab’s proximity to world-altering events likely owes to his being one of the most well-connected men on Earth. As the driving force behind the World Economic Forum, “the international organization for public-private cooperation,” Schwab has courted heads of state, leading business executives, and the elite of academic and scientific circles into the Davos fold for over 50 years. More recently, he has also courted the ire of many due to his more recent role as the frontman of the Great Reset, a sweeping effort to remake civilization globally for the express benefit of the elite of the World Economic Forum and their allies.

PART II: Schwab, during the Forum’s annual meeting in January 2021, stressed that the building of trust would be integral to the success of the Great Reset, signalling a subsequent expansion of the initiative’s already massive public relations campaign. Though Schwab called for the building of trust through unspecified “progress,” trust is normally facilitated through transparency. Perhaps that is why so many have declined to trust Mr. Schwab and his motives, as so little is known about the man’s history and background prior to his founding of the World Economic Forum in the early 1970s.

PART III: Like many prominent frontmen for elite-sponsored agendas, the online record of Schwab has been well-sanitized, making it difficult to come across information on his early history as well as information on his family. Yet, having been born in Ravensburg, Germany in 1938, many have speculated in recent months that Schwab’s family may have had some tie to Axis war efforts, ties that, if exposed, could threaten the reputation of the World Economic Forum and bring unwanted scrutiny to its professed missions and motives."

-- UNLIMITED HANGOUT, "Schwab Family Values," c. February 2021

Source: www.simplelists.com/nfu/msg/16309232.

#Charles Schwab #Obey Consume Reset #The Great Reset #Social Engineering #High Cabal #World Economic Forum #They Live #Global Elite #They Live Art #Ties to Nazi Germany #Great Reset #WEF #THEY LIVE 1988 #They Live 1988 #Sci-fi #Global Elites #Remaking Civilization #Sci-fi Art #Hegemonic Control of History #Hegemonic Control #Nazi Collaborators #Elite-Sponsored Agenda #Global Control

[julia-davis794]

Blog Post 2

Harvard, one of the most prestigious institutions of higher education in the world, has recently made the questionable decision not to remove the Sackler name from their campus. However on par with the institution’s classist history, Harvard’s decision not to remove the Sackler name from campus buildings is inappropriate and unsatisfactory. The opioid epidemic can be traced back to the Sackler name, the family and infamous owners of Purdue Pharma, otherwise known as the makers of Oxycontin. 

The rightful standing of the names on Harvard’s campus have been a longstanding topic of debate. According to Harvard Magazine Editor in Chief John S. Rosenberg, “The names we have been given from Harvard’s first three-and-three-quarter centuries overwhelmingly represent one dimension of the University’s past: men of elite status, power, and importance from eras quite different from our own.” This view-point is corroborated by the preceding events to the university’s Sackler decision. Arthur M. Sackler, often credited with the revolutionary advertisement tactics that would one day contribute to the greater opioid epidemic, donated significant funds to Harvard in a successful effort to have the school’s museum collection of Asian, Middle Eastern, and Mediterranean art named after him.  After long calls to remove the Sackler name from Harvard's campus, Harvard deemed the action of removing the Sackler name from campus buildings or returning any past donations as “inappropriate” in 2019. Following the announcement, University President Lawrence S. Bacow stated that in addition to “legal and contractual considerations,” Arthur Sackler had passed away before OxyContin was developed and marketed. This decision has been met with significant backlash, as other institutions, when tasked with similar dilemmas, have successfully separated their campuses from the Sackler name. 

The connections upon which elite institutions have been built upon and those they produce are perhaps some of the most promising and guaranteed appeals of attendance. As with all collegiate institutions, money is a major driving force to success and smooth operation. Two-thirds of Harvard’s operating expenses in the 2021 fiscal year, approximately five billion dollars, came from sources such as federal and non-federal research grants, student tuition and fees, and gifts from alumni, parents, and friends. Prescription Addiction Intervention Now organizer Megan Kapler has stated that a large contributing factor to the overall hesitation from institutions to remove the Sackler name correlates to other interrelated forms of funding. In an interview, Kapler remarked, “If they take down the Sackler name, will they have to reassess their other donors? I think that’s more than likely the case.” Many of the organizations and individuals that sponsor and fund elite institutions concert with one another. Removal of the Sackler name runs the risk of jeopardizing relationships with other organizations and contributors as well. 

The development of Harvard’s denaming principles, being as denaming is such a contentious subject, was a meticulous and comprehensive process. The Sackler case is special in its comparability to these principles, as it validates some but seems to go against others. One of the principles is as follows: “the case for removing an individual’s name will be strongest when the behaviors now seen as morally repugnant are a significant component of that individual’s legacy when viewed in the full context of the namesake’s life.” Almost unarguably so, the impacts of the Sackler’s actions and their subsequent legacy are morally repugnant and extremely significant. Those who have been affected by the opioid epidemic in recent years are the ones suffering from the repercussions of Sackler’s actions. Their lives are currently and continually impacted by real, genuine, consequences, and this will not change depending on the intent of the Sackler family’s initial actions.

 The focus on major names, however, takes away from a principal issue at hand. Undoubtedly, the opioid crisis has disproportionately impacted rural lower-income areas when compared to any other demographic. A December 2017 survey by the National Farmers Union and the American Farm Bureau Federation found that as many as 74 percent of farmers have been directly impacted by the opioid crisis. As of the 2020 Harvard graduating class, only 8.7 percent comes from rural areas, versus 30.5 percent and 60.8 percent from cities and suburbs. Almost all elite institutions of higher education in the United States have a long standing history of classism. This is commonly seen in their past actions and behaviors. The case at hand is no different. Per their diversity statement, Harvard claims to make it their mission to “address disparities and inequities.” Harvard’s decision to stand idly by, deciding not to remove the name while also seeming to make no new conscious efforts to educate or research to prevent continued detriment of the opioid epidemic goes against their diversity statement. 

The Sackler name should be removed from Harvard campus buildings for a multitude of reasons. Connections, denaming principles, legality, and the impacts of the opioid epidemic on low income rural communities significantly overshadow the current rationale behind Harvard’s decision not to separate themselves from the Sackler name. An institution that claims to be devoted to progressivism and diversity expansion’s current actions continue their longstanding history of classism, tolerance of prejudice, and blatant discriminatory practices.

Works Cited

“An Ambitious Research Plan to Help Solve the Opioid Crisis.” National Institutes of Health, 7 July 2020, nida.nih.gov/about-nida/noras-blog/2018/06/ambitious-research-plan-to-help-solve-opioid-crisis#:~:text=Three%20medications%20are%20currently%20FDA,intranasal%20formulations%20to%20reverse%20overdose.“Ann Marie.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 22 Sept. 2017, https://www.cdc.gov/rxawareness/stories/annmarie.html. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

Chaidez, Alexandra A, and Aidan F Ryan. “Bacow Says Removing Sackler Name from Harvard Buildings Would Be 'Inappropriate': News: The Harvard Crimson.” News | The Harvard Crimson, 6 May 2019, https://www.thecrimson.com/article/2019/5/6/bacow-sackler/. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

Hammer, Katie, and Randy Fox. “Targeting the Opioid Crisis.” Targeting the Opioid Crisis | Harvard Medical School, 15 May 2019, https://hms.harvard.edu/news/targeting-opioid-crisis. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

“Harvard Medical School Diversity Statement.” Harvard Medical School, https://hms.harvard.edu/about-hms/campus-culture/diversity-inclusion/harvard-medical-school-diversity-statement. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

“Harvard's Endowment.” Financial Administration, https://finance.harvard.edu/endowment#:~:text=Even%20with%20endowment%20support%2C%20Harvard,alumni%2C%20parents%2C%20and%20friends. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

Health, Cultivating. “Fentanyl Facts, Overdose Signs to Look for, and How You Can Help Save a Life.” Health, 11 Jan. 2023, health.ucdavis.edu/blog/cultivating-health/fentanyl-overdose-facts-signs-and-how-you-can-help-save-a-life/2023/01#:~:text=Due%20to%20its%20potency%2C%20a,powerful%20and%20can%20be%20addictive.

Holmes, Helen. “The Sackler Name Can Now Be Removed from Any Museum with 45 Days Notice.” Observer, Observer, 4 Mar. 2022, https://observer.com/2022/03/the-sackler-name-can-now-be-removed-from-any-museum-with-45-days-notice/. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

“Opioid Misuse in Rural America.” USDA, https://www.usda.gov/topics/opioids#:~:text=The%20United%20States%20is%20experiencing,greatest%20percentage%20increase%20in%20deaths. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

“Understanding the Opioid Overdose Epidemic.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention,

June 2022, www.cdc.gov/opioids/basics/epidemic.html. 

Rosenberg, John S. “Harvard Articulates Principles for ‘Denaming.’” Harvard Magazine, 9 Dec. 2021, https://www.harvardmagazine.com/2021/12/harvard-denaming-principles. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

Seltzer, Rick. “Tufts Will Remove Sackler Name from Medical Campus, Drawing Rebuke from Purdue Pharma's Owners.” Tufts Will Remove Sackler Name from Medical Campus, Drawing Rebuke from Purdue Pharma's Owners, 6 Dec. 2019, https://www.insidehighered.com/news/2019/12/06/tufts-will-remove-sackler-name-medical-campus-drawing-rebuke-purdue-pharmas-owners. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.

Tremayne-Pengelly, Alexandra. “Harvard Continues to Display the Sackler Family Name despite Calls for Removal.” Observer, Observer, 19 Sept. 2022, https://observer.com/2022/09/harvard-continues-to-display-the-sackler-family-name-despite-calls-for-removal/. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.Ukani, Alisha. “Recruiting for Economic Diversity.” Harvard Magazine, 3 Aug. 2017, https://www.harvardmagazine.com/2017/08/admissions-office-strategies-low-income. Accessed 26 Sept. 2022.