#( .: arthur - musings :. )

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

I Died For You [A Malevolent Animatic]

Voice acting and audio by @malevolentcast , who very generously sent me this audio file to use for this animatic. Thank you for creating such a beautiful show.

Background and details under cut

I began this animatic early last year after finding the audio on TikTok. Once I heard it, I was immediately struck with the thought of how those first couple of weeks in the Dark World would be for John immediately after Season 2. It seemed perfectly fitting, how John might be tortured by his guilt and uncertainty if Arthur was even still alive, and that torment would only aid his regression to his more… Kingly qualities.

I began to draft the thumbnails of the animatic in my sketchbook before transferring it to my digital workspace, which was incredibly intimidating at the time. This was my first independent animatic. In last year’s InvictusCon, Harlan popped into my stream as I was explaining my animatic thought process to my viewers, shaking with both excitement and terror. I was stunned when he offered to voice it himself. The next day, he sent me the audio file. To this day, I am still stunned he spent so much time and effort to create something. It was the encouragement I needed to finish a longer-form animatic. It may be only a minute and some change, but this is a whole year of my life condensed - my obsession, my adoration, my passion for not only this podcast but for art in general, both visual and audio.

It’s by happy accident that I finished this right at the cusp of the Season 5 finale. It almost perfectly slots in. So… let’s all pretend that this animatic took me a month to do rather than the year I spent sweating on my couch and complaining about the number of times I forgot Arthur’s wooden finger.

[ace-inthehole]

Just thinking about a pretty old man <3

[18+] Mdni

Top gn reader. Amab or afab w/ a strap I left it vague.

Inspired by @rodolfoparras :)

When you first start your advances, he pushes you off. Because he's already an old man, hair greying, joints creaking, with eyes that have seen far too much. He can't ruin a pretty young thing like you, but oh boy does he want to. It takes everything in him to reject you, let you down lightly, because he wants you just as much as you want him. Maybe more.

It's not hard to notice his wayward glances and sneaked looks, a deep hunger in his eyes, wanting and full of desire. It's rather adorable, seeing him try so hard to suppress his urges and feelings, because he isn't convincing anyone with that act. Not you, and not himself.

But with your persistence, that little facade of his begins to crack. It starts small, maybe a few long conversations over drinks in some dingy bar or a deep chat under the view of the cityscape. His longing gaze becomes more and more passionate, heavy with lust as he takes you in. He still looks away when you meet his eyes, cheeks flushed under his beard as he grumbles some poor excuse.

Fleeting looks become yearning gazes, a brush of your hands become intertwining the under the table. He's breaking, and it's because of you.

And when you finally bed him, he's nothing short of a mess. Splayed out bare before you on your bed, gasping and crying out at every touch. It isn't his first time, far from it, but man does it feel like it is. Every touch from your warm hands on his skin, your breath fanning over his neck or your lips on his face send pleasant and hot hums through his body.

It's embarrassing, it's shameful, every part of him on display before you, but your loving eyes that see nothing but beauty makes his heart clench.

He can hardly get it up anymore, just barely half hard when you're pressing into him, but it feels so good he doesn't have the mind to be embarrassed. When you kiss him you taste the bitter ash lingering from the cigarette he smoked earlier, but his noises are more than sweet enough to make up for it.

When he comes, he's gasping and throwing his head back, body convulsing as he desperately clings onto you. A beautiful sight really, such a man in pieces under you. Pieces that you tear apart with ardor and put back together again lovingly. He lets you do so, becoming putty at your fingertips and moulding into any form you shape him into.

He's reduced to a crying, sniffling little mess with his release splattered on his stomach, but he stares up at you with such pure adoration. He settles into your arms after you clean yourselves up, head resting on your chest and arms wrapped tightly around you.

Truly, an adorable old man.

-

So this is my first time writing smut lol. Go easy on me, thanks. This was written with Price in mind but I decided to keep the character ambiguous.

[snip73]

inside of me

[michsmeesh]

oh arthur

[marstonsboy]

had another evil thought that spiralled out of control. indulge me for a moment:

over the years, people start arriving on a near empty plot of land west of blackwater. it’s uncertain who got there first: bessie matthews, beatrice and lyle morgan, eliza, isaac morgan, etc.— but more and more people show up until it’s something of a community. jenny kirk, mac and davey callander. then soon after, jake adler, sean macguire, kieran duffy, hosea matthews, lenny summers, molly o’shea, eagle flies, susan grimshaw. more and more in such a short amount of time. arthur morgan is the last, and suddenly the deaths stop.

after a sudden stretch of years with little newcomers, a house starts taking shape. soon enough the house is a home, and peculiar things can be found all over: a dog barking where no one can find it. echoes of campfire songs going late into the night. photos of john and abigail’s wedding, attended by what remained of their family. a taxidermy squirrel that appears back on the mantle no matter how many times you throw it out, wearing a very familiar hat. in just a few years a heartbreakingly young girl comes home, bearing a strong resemblance to one abigail marston.

then, gunshots. john marston and uncle are the next to arrive.

in the next few years, the house is eerily quiet. the residents see it falling into disrepair, but they can’t do anything about it. the dog stops barking, the campfire has gone cold and won’t relight. abigail marston is next, and though they’re happy to see her, the arrival brings up a question. what happens to jack now?

the livestock are gone, and the house is dusty, all but stripped of the knickknacks and personality that built up over the years, like someone found it all too painful to look at. john’s hat and guns, once tucked away inside a box beneath the bed, vanish the night after abigail arrives. newspapers come to the door, announcing the death of former government agent edgar ross.

soon after, a wanted poster, bearing the name “john marston jr.” and a sketch resembling the boy’s namesake so much that it has john himself stumbling back. jack was only a boy when he left, and now he’s wanted dead or alive, with a price over his head that could rival some of his uncles and aunts back in the day.

every year that passes without any sign of jack is a relief. the house doesn’t change much, still abandoned, but letters come in. mary-beth gaskill, tilly jackson, simon pearson, sadie adler, charles smith— old friends and family, checking in on him. none of them reach the recipient, as he is not home, but they’re filled to the brim with love, letting him know that he isn’t alone. that he always has a home with them, if he wants it.

one day, john spots a book he doesn’t recognize on the shelf by the piano, and he stops. “Red Dead” by a J. Marston. it doesn’t take much to figure out who that could be. he opens it, flips through, and reads it to abigail. the kinder parts get read to their daughter, ecstatic to learn about how her older brother is doing. their son did become a writer after all, even if everything he’s written speaks volumes of his grief, his anger. the loneliness he’s endured since losing his family, and killing edgar ross.

arthur morgan opens his old journal to find several entries and sketches from john, but also many new ones from jack. his handwriting is just as clumsy as his father’s, but his drawings are more refined. little portraits of the gang members that lived and scribbly sketches of what the world is becoming in their absence decorate the pages. war, cars outnumbering horses, and a very detailed drawing of a revolver none of them have ever seen before.

he’s all grown up, and good lord is he angry. he’s mourning, and hurt, and he’s lost so much, but he’s still undoubtedly jack marston. he draws dogs and writes about missing rufus, slipping strays some food from his bag whenever he sees them. sometimes he’ll write a dry, sarcastic joke that speaks of his father’s influence, or mention missing his momma’s cooking, “even though it was hardly edible,” which makes abigail roll her eyes. he hates fishing and prefers to lose hours of the day with his nose in a book. the best maintained part of beecher’s hope is the graves on that hill, which gain new flowers every week. sometimes, if they listen close, they can hear him talking, telling his ma and pa what he’s been up to, though he saves the grisly details for his book.

and when jack marston finally does walk through that door, much older than when anyone he knew last saw him but far too young to die, he is welcomed home with open arms. because no matter what he’s done, and no matter how much he may hate himself, he will always have a home here with people who love him, and who can’t wait to get to know him all over again.

[sewliaart]

More Arthur Lester sketches

[vesseloftherevolution]

So, for George IV's coronation, it's a (hopefully) well known fact that he made everyone dress up in mock Tudor clothing, which is frankly hilarious due to how badly wrong they got it. And some of you may know that there's a glorious picture of the Duke of Wellington wearing said costume:

Poor Wellington... he looks so cross.

Now. I have been reading Fiona MacCarthy's biography of Byron, and it decided to punch me with an unexpected paragraph this evening:

We could have had LORD BYRON wandering around in Mock Tudor, which he'd love. And moreover, we could have had this as the one time Byron and Wellington met.

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

Okay so if we're going with "Kayne never touched Arthur till the handshake in part 40" in a weird "Arthur's special, keeping him "pure," sort of deifying him, because he's special like him and is also an anomaly and is something Kayne can't figure out" kind of way, do we think he did the same thing with other Arthurs or do we think that he couldn't stop poking and prodding at them to stave off the urge to cover his Arthur in blood / maybe tried to keep those blood free at first but stops restraining himself as soon as they start disappointing him or failing in some way?

[iamnmbr3]

where is my crack comedy au where lucius and arthur have to team up to keep the story of their fistfight out of the paper and stop any news of the incident reaching their wives

[achillesuwu]

Even as a big spoon Arthur is still little spoon coded. That man is definitely snuggling into the space between Merlin's neck and the pillow until Merlin slowly turn into another blanket that Arthur put fully on his face (yes, Merlin does get neck pain in the morning as a result of sleeping on Arthur. His shoulders were not mean to rest on Arthur's nose and his neck was not meant to bend backward like that the whole night)

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

Malevolent S1-2: What if I gave you the jitters when you drive at night

Malevolent S3: What if I made you confront the reality that your fave isn’t a good person

Malevolent S4: What if I showed you there’s light at the end of the tunnel

Malevolent S5: What if I broke into your house and killed you

[mofsblog]

Something about Malevolent and eyes. Something about how the catalyst for the series is Arthur losing his eyes. Something about how Arthur's eyes symbolise freedom for John as a character and are the windows that allow him to witness and experience humanity. Something about how Kayne figuratively has eyes almost everywhere, and they reiterate how controlling he can be. Something about how Lillith's eyes betray her facades and how they are consistently described as the most honest and unfiltered part of her. Malevolent and eyes...

[aflawedfashion]

Amy & Rory | Doctor Who 6x05

[lihim-oa]

chat, what did Harlan mean by this?

[th3lightyougaveme]

thinking about the fucking. arthur killing lily (the weird creature in the dreamlands from after they escaped) and basically killing the thing that represents johns humanity. THEIR humanity. and then his entire thing with losing his humanity in s3 only to get it back BECAUSE of john. theres probably more dots to connect i just cant think bleeeeeeh