Parker Yang - Tumblr Posts
I think the comment about Arthur’s soul being fractured glass has gotta be the best description of him I’ve ever read
Ok this was orginally a joke about how Arthur managed to hit rock bottom so many times but can you imagine if somehow, Parker was able to meet him now?
This man, that Parker pulled off a bartop and into a detective's office because he couldn't stand to see someone so clearly hurting left alone. This man, who was cold and angry and hated everything he was and had been allowing some wound he never mentioned to fester for years, but at his core was genuine, and kind, and wanted to help people. This man, who Parker found drowning himself in booze and pulled him up from the bedrock, who he was close enough with to share an apartment and an office. This man, who strangled Parker to death with his bare hands.
Who is now covered in a patchwork of scars that should have been -and were- the end of him. Who is now willing to draw his gun on anyone, who might even enjoy doing so if Parker looks a little too closely. Who has been fractured, the shattered pieces of a tender soul that was hardened into glass pushing up against his skin as if they were trying to claw their way out of this husk of a man. Who has died. Who has wanted to die. Who has been rendered blind, yet has born witness to so much more than any human was ever meant to.
This man, who would hear Parker's voice, and his face, but not his eyes, would fill with dread as the implications crashed down on him.
This man, who would go against his instincts and lunge forward, crushing Parker into a hug, because he knows all too well that if he isn't holding onto something so tightly his knuckles go white, it will be taken from him.
This man, who knows he can't save anyone he loves, who hasn't been able to save anyone he loves, yet who finds himself loving and losing regardless
This man, who Parker would take by the shoulders, hold at arm's lenght, look up and down across the tapestry of all manner of hurt and loss that has been woven into his skin and his soul and ask
"What the hell happened to you, friend?"
ME FR RIGHT NOW
Refrain, chapter four - a Malevolent fic (The start of Surrogate, season two!)
Kayne's "season one" ended with a choice: whichever father Faroe picked, he was ready to let that slingshot fire.
She picked Arthur. Well, that was nice, wasn't it? Especially since he'd spent almost a year pulling that rubber band back, loaded.
Of course, he had no idea how well it would work. Humans are weird, and pieces of Hastur seem to respond particularly well to prolonged exposure.
It was time to deny a wicked man his prize.
Time to give a good man a second chance and see what he did with it.
Time to take the abused piece of a god and find out how it changed when given to someone else.
Part of Surrogate, a Malevolent AU. Written with @sepiabandensis.
AO3 (chapter four)
-------
They got used to sleeping outside, when the weather permitted. They also got used to welcoming other travelers.
These moments, to Sunny, were unreal. Seated around a campfire, sharing stories; lying beneath blankets of stars. The freedom. The living.
Maybe Parker was right. Even if they eventually did get caught… maybe this was worth the journey.
#
Parker-watching was a good thing to do. Sunny liked when they were in places with reflections; he could see the planes of Parker’s face, and the steady, sharp gaze that missed nothing.
Sunny also noticed whom Parker watched. And whom Parker… watched.
In one small town, within spitting distance of Myngar, they took a room at an inn with some fantastic roasted fisher-bird. The rice-like grain from the nearby floodplains made a light, flavorful beer that was easy to drink, hard to overdo, and just potent enough that even Sunny was warm from the buzz.
Sunny had taken a liking to people-watching, as well. It was good to keep an eye out while they were on a case, but there was a certain kind of simple beauty in watching others, humans and otherwise, go about their lives. It reminded Sunny of a lifetime ago, when he had watched strange and stilted dancing in a bar in Addison, but it was so much better.
Today Parker’s gaze wandered, dragging Sunny’s along with it, but when it got to the bar… it lingered.
The barkeep’s son was a tall, handsome man with lowered lashes and a shy smile who seemed keen on keeping Parker’s glass full. Sunny did not miss when their hands brushed against at another exchange of a glass. He also did not miss how the man’s gaze lingered, too, sweeping back towards Parker, and how Parker met and held that gaze. Sometimes, when the man leaned just right, it was if the flavor in Parker’s mouth changed. Almost like hunger. Almost.
You prefer the male form, Sunny observed.
“Yeah,” said Parker, still watching the guy.
You like that form.
“Kinda,” said Parker. “Guys like that, they know how to move. I like spreading ‘em. Like butter on toast.”
Sunny thought for a long moment. If you wish to indulge, I will not interfere.
Parker had a coughing fit. “Buddy… come on, I’m not doing that to you.”
Larson did. I learned how to… step aside. Away. To put myself away.
“To what?” said Parker, soft. “You what?”
To remove myself from it.
“What, you… you dissociate?” said Parker, recalling the word from a case four years ago. “Are you serious?”
Sunny seemed lost. Yes?
Parker put his hands around his beer. He was silent for a long moment, and no longer watching the barkeep’s son. “I’d rather you didn’t do that, buddy. I’m not gonna put you in a position where you have to.”
But you deserve pleasure, Sunny said, intensely. You deserve good things.
“I’ve had plenty of fun. You know what’s not fun? Screwing over a partner, you hear me?”
It was Sunny’s turn to be silent for a long moment.
“That son of a bitch,” Parker muttered, and did not bring it up again.
#
Two weeks later, Larson hired non-magical goons—natives to the Dreamlands—and these, Parker found harder to spot.
The group caught him fair and square, dragging him out of a town before he’d reached an inn for the night. They beat him up. They threw him in a half-wrecked room with a heavy door and locked it, then got rowdy-drunk in the main room to celebrate the payday they’d snagged.
Parker used a board from the bed and a block from the wall and levered the door off its hinges while Sunny hissed, Yes, Parker!
From that point, they both were a lot more careful.
#
I never want to go back to him, Sunny told Parker after the fourth failed capture. He spoke with the same desperate pleading he’d used when begging Parker not to hurt him on the day they had met. Parker, please. I never, ever want to go back.
“I hear you, buddy,” said Parker, breathing a little hard as he jogged in the wilderness. “But if they catch us and we can’t get out, that only leaves one option, you know?” And Parker wasn’t Larson; he never used Sunny’s words against him, so he didn’t say, you didn’t want to die, or anything like that. He just let it sit. This was Sunny’s hand to play, however he wanted to play it.
Instead, Sunny began to recite a poem.
If we must die—let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursed lot, If we must die—oh, let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we defy Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! Oh, Kinsmen! We must meet the common foe; Though far outnumbered, let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
Parker sounded stunned. “Oh,” he said, softly. “That’s… that’s it. That’s… everything. You just… damn, Sunny. That’s… that feels right. What is that? And don’t say ‘a poem.’”
If I can’t say it’s a poem, Sunny said wryly, I will call it a war cry. I will not let him take me. I won’t execute you to do it, but… It would be an honor to die by your side, my friend.
Parker set his jaw. It was a good sign; Sunny knew that by now. It meant Parker was ready to throw himself into something, head, hand, and foot, heart, soul, and spirit. “I’m in. I won’t let them get you, if I got any say in it. Let ‘em try.”
#
They said this man was strong. Had knocked out a casting sorcerer, somehow, with just his fists.
They said this man was smart. He’d reinstated the true rulers of Karnath, unraveled the mystery of the Mummy Caves, and somehow brought peace to Princess Y’thgna in her final moments.
They said he was also on some kind of personal quest to taste every single food in the Dreamlands.
Of course, all of that couldn’t be true. But it sure was fun to talk about.
And people did.
#
Parker traveled smart, and kept their head down, sticking to crowds; and so they got to hear the news.
The Games were in Carcosa. (And Sunny waxed eloquent.)
Carcosa was attacked. (And Sunny freaked out.)
The Carcosan princess was missing (and Sunny twisted, trying to figure out who the hell that could be).
The Carcosan princess was found (and maybe was human, and Sunny didn’t believe that at all).
A storm like no one had ever seen crash-landed in the Middle Sea. (And Parker and Sunny were very glad they hadn’t gotten to the coast yet to catch a boat towards Carcosa, because every boat on the water had been turned to toothpicks.)
This slowed them down a bit. Parker knew they were being chased, but… when the storm finally passed, everything was kindling. The closer they got to the sea, the more damage they found. People wept; voices cried names, hoping for response against impossible odds. The wounded moaned, sometimes still trapped in buildings that had fallen.
Parker couldn’t just keep going. He knew they were close; Carcosa was across the water, or so Sunny said. But they couldn’t ignore all of this. “We gotta help, Sunny.”
Sunny had lapsed into that heavy, meaningful silence, but at last: I agree. People are wounded, or hurting, or need to find family, and that is what you and I seem to excel at. Plus, there’s talk of Carcosa being allied with Celephaïs, now—we can always go there to resume our quest, after we’ve helped.
And Parker had to say it, because he wasn’t in the business of tricking Sunny. “Means we’ll be in the crosshairs. And in one place longer than we should be. You still up? Because I am.”
I’m still up, my friend. Larson we will deal with when he comes—we always do. His voice still trembled when he talked about Larson coming after them.
“Glad to work with you, buddy,” said Parker. And they dove in.
#
They weren’t caught for three weeks. Maybe Larson hadn’t considered they’d stay behind, risking themselves. Maybe he’d just assumed they’d avoid the worst of it, because (both were sure) he would have.
But they stayed, and they helped, and though Parker tried to keep it all under wraps, the weird hooded guy with the wisp of gold in his mouth just wasn’t something people wanted to keep quiet about.
#
“Mister,” said a woman one night. “Please. You’re the one helping people, right? Please.”
Parker was tired. Sunny was tired. They hadn’t even had the chance to enjoy their truly excellent hot and sour soup. “Maybe?” said Parker, turning. “What’s up?”
She was a worn woman, tired, too thin. She’d chopped her hair off rather than trying to maintain it in all the chaos, and her clothes were threadbare. “My son. Please. He… we thought he was getting better, but he’s not,” she said, wringing her hands.
“I can’t make any promises,” said Parker, because he always did, “but I can at least try. Where is he?”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she sobbed. “This way. I’m sorry, it… my home is on the other side of town.”
“Eh,” said Parker. “Nice evening to stretch our legs. Lead on, ma’am. I’m Parker. Nice to meet you.”
“Pah… Pakah,” she repeated. “Cill.”
“Hi, Cill.” And Parker did a thing that he sometimes did: he offered the soup to the woman.
Sunny didn’t sigh this time. They could get more soup. They would. That looked really good, too.
She looked shocked. Took it. And, her eyes filling, she turned and hurried off.
Parker followed at speed, hood up. “Spot our tail yet?”
I can’t tell. I still think you’re right and we’re being watched.
“I’m sure we are.” His gut was never wrong. “You ready to move on yet?”
They’re not ready.
“I agree.” Parker navigated around a cart filled with debris, being taken for burning. “Let’s just be careful.”
Cill wasn’t kidding; her home was more than just on the other side of town. It was outside it, on the outskirts, far enough away that its flickering, candlelit windows shone in the night.
So this felt suspicious as hell, but the woman’s distress was real. Her glance, over her shoulder, was desperate and just a pinch guilty as she clutched the soup to her chest and went inside.
Had Larson hurt some kid? “Batter up,” Parker warned softly, and stepped in behind her.
It wasn’t a wealthy place. Essentially one room with bits of mismatched furniture here and there, it had a single bed with a boy, a child who had to be five, at most. Half his face was bandaged; the wound, whatever it was, had turned, seeping brown, and did not smell good. The boy’s breath came fast and shallow.
“Aw, kid,” said Parker softly, and headed for him.
Sunny let out his insubstantial breath. This will be an easy one. It’s like we did for that woman in Thraa, remember? I’m going to let you do this one: focus, and let my magic flow through you.
“Yeah, that’ll work. Cill, how’d he get hurt?” But her look made him pause.
She kept glancing behind him.
Parker looked. There was nothing there. Oh, boy. “Cill?”
“He… when the shipyard was destroyed. It was flying debris. Nails and wood.”
“We can help him.” Parker needed her to know this. “Okay?”
Her look was pleading.
Why does she keep staring at us like that? Sunny’s voice was low.
“Pretty sure it’s a trap, but that kid is really hurt,” said Parker.
“Now, I wasn’t gonna let such a golden opportunity pass by,” said Larson, and he appeared from shadow, hand held palm down over the kid’s head.
Sunny gasped, but it was almost second nature as he took hold of Parker’s voice. “Larson,” he said, softly. “That’s a child. An innocent. Don’t hurt him. Please.”
“You,” Larson sneered, “ain’t in a position to bargain, you truant little shit. Now, let me talk to the big man.”
Parker took in a soft breath, his jaw his own again. “Speakin’,” he said. “You’ve got us where you want us. Yeah? Let the kid go.”
“Sure. Soon as I really get what I want. You are gonna hold damn still, aren’t you? No spells. No tricks. This little game of ours has been fun, but it’s over. I win.”
More men stepped out of the shadows. There was real power here; this must have taken days to set up.
Cill was softly crying.
The kid…
Parker, Sunny whispered. The kid.
They were on the same page, but they’d only get one shot—and only if Larson was distracted. Sunny began prepping the spell like a slingshot, and Parker drew focus back to himself. “So much work for just one guy, right? I must’a really busted up your plans. Whatever they were.”
“You’ll never know them,” Larson smugged.
“Really? I got a few guesses. Educated ones, even.”
“I don’t care,” said Larson, baring his teeth a little.
“No? You don’t even want to know how I keep getting away from you? Just some guy from Boston, fooling the Great White Hunter?”
“What you’ve been, boy, is lucky. And I think we both know why.”
Parker could feel the magic building. Just needed to keep him talking. “Because I’m smarter than you?”
“Because of what you stole,” Larson snarled.
Parker leaned on his accent, knowing without question that it would grate on Larson’s nerves. “Didn’t steal nuttin’. You know, Lahson… for all we’ve been playing cat and mouse, you haven’t showed up all that much. Ah ya scared?”
Larson was turning colors again. “Just trying not to crack the chamber pot too soon,” he snarled.
“Ooh. Funny. Get that, Sunny? He’s calling you shit.”
I’ll fucking show him shit, Sunny muttered, the power coiling beneath their tongue.
“Enough of this,” said Larson, and his goons shifted, in position. “Stand down, or the kid dies.”
Parker could do that. After all, Larson didn’t say not to speak.
He relaxed his jaw, his lips, his tongue. He gave Sunny his mouth. And Sunny sang.
The power flowed from them like a wave, surging over the kid, bandages burning away as the infection was purged and the wounds knit themselves closed, sight even returning to the eye that was mangled. It was golden light, pure poetry in R’lyehian, and Parker could feel his face smiling as it left a golden glow of protection sweeping around not only the boy, but Cill too.
“You can’t hurt them now,” Sunny said. “As it turns out, this shit don’t stink after all.”
Parker laughed.
Larson stared as if he fully believed they’d gone mad. “That was your shot? Are you out of your damn mind?”
And they came at him, fists and ropes and anger, too much to fight through—but not before he saw the gratitude on Cill’s face.
Take that, you asshole, he thought, and tumbled into darkness.
#
They say he single-handedly turned the tide of the death-toll after the Storm in Zakarion.
They say he lost his life there, captured by whatever evil tracked him down (and various Dreamers imagined this immortal clash as various things, from angels and demons to good and evil enfleshed).
They say he even saved the child of an enemy before he died.
They say a shrine had already been raised, and there would be more. No one would ever forget the names of Pahkah Yang and Sunny, his golden friend.
#
There would definitely be no further chances to get away.
Parker woke and found himself bound to a ridiculous level; chains and ropes, up his arms and legs, around his torso. Every finger had been individually tied. There was some kind of muzzle on his face, keeping his mouth from opening, its straps digging into his cheeks. He couldn’t even turn his head—blocks had been strapped to it, keeping it straight.
Well. It had been a good run.
Honestly? He’d always believed he’d die young, but here, he’d gotten to live twice. He’d helped people. He’d seen things so few had, and really loved this new world.
It was Sunny he felt sick for.
Parker didn’t really know from spells. Not really. But the things Sunny had described about that last one—the one the Outer God interrupted—made him certain Larson had been about to do something terrible to Sunny. Sunny was the one in real danger here.
Parker, Sunny said. Can you hear me? Blink twice if yes, three times if—well, I suppose I’ll know if the answer is no.
He could blink twice. Easy. Also, ow. His head hurt. Whoever did him had done him dirty. Fuckers, he thought, and really wished he had a way to silently communicate with Sunny.
He didn’t want Sunny feeling bad over this. They’d done the right thing, even if it meant capture.
Oh, thank the gods, Sunny said. His voice was soothing and gentle—Parker was reminded of how Sunny had spoken after he’d passed out, when Sunny had healed his bullet wound, what might have been a lifetime ago. I… This is perhaps selfish of me, but… I was afraid of being alone. I’m glad you’re still here. He went quiet for a moment. I’ve decided… I think there are some ways for me to fight against him now. I promised you that I wouldn’t go down without a fight, and I’m going to keep that promise.
Parker blinked twice.
Sunny let out a soft, desperate laugh. Thank you, Parker. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I feel like, maybe, I did something very good. That we did something good. And I don’t know about you, but I can face my end with… fewer regrets. He took a lungless breath. If I have the opportunity, I’ll make it quick for you, my friend. And I’ll look for you on the other side.
Two blinks. And Parker set his jaw. He was all in.
Heh. Heh, heh. Fuck. Somehow Parker could feel Sunny shudder. Should I try to fill our time? Talk? Close your eyes for two seconds if no, or… one blink for poetry, two blinks for songs, three blinks for… something else, I suppose. I’ll figure something out.
Three blinks. Always, he encouraged Sunny to explore. That was just who he was. Consistently.
Sunny knew who Parker was. Parker had lied plenty—Sunny had seen him do it, to get out of things, to get information. But never to Sunny. Parker had tricked, too. Fought. Been quite aggressive… but never to Sunny. And Parker had always had a reason for doing those things, and explained. It made everything better, somehow. Good. Living.
Parker’s heart raced now, of course. His wriggled attempts did nothing. There would be no getting out of this.
Sunny sniffled. Something else, he said. You know, I don’t remember tasting anything before you. I think the entity that put me in Arthur’s head ensured I remembered nothing. So I think that made this the most wonderful. To be able to taste.
“Mmmm,” Parker agreed.
This is perhaps a bit embarrassing, Sunny said with a laugh. But I think the sweets were some of my favorites. I really liked that sipping chocolate we had in Jaren. I think that might have been my favorite—at least of the drinks.
Parker chuckled just a little. A couple of tears slipped down his face, but he said, “Mm-mm-mm,” encouraging.
My favorite meal, though, was when we had—do you remember, Parker, when we had to catch that fish, on the Oukranos? A real laugh, now. And despite the fact that we had it in a trap, it still took us twenty minutes to catch the fucking thing. You got all wet. It tasted so good, though, probably because we were both tired. But you were laughing, and I was still having such a good time. It was like we didn’t have to worry about anything but—
“Fucking hell, you two,” said a bright voice, a strident voice, a voice that Parker sort of knew. Had heard briefly. Most recently, when something pulled him to the roof, when they were going to be caught. “If I wanted mush, I’d have bought the damn cable package.”
Sunny gasped. Parker, it’s him! The Outer God!
“Mmm?” managed Parker, because what the fuck? What does he want? he thought.
“Eh. The usual. A better lemon pie. Six Amy May Wongs with some sharp toys. A better use of time, for fuck’s sake. Anyway! You’re all wound up. Ready to go. It’s time to fulfill your actual purpose, babes.”
That sounded bad. Parker couldn’t see him; he wanted Sunny out of this. Maybe he could bargain.
“Nope, sorry. He’s blow number two to that tender psyche. Ciao!”
Parker! Wh—
Wh—Parker was ripped from the restraints (it hurt, damn it) and hurled.
He hit the floor, staggering into blazing white light that took his sight, into some… presence that thrummed through the room and made his skin tingle, and discordant trumpets hurt his ears.
If this was the Pearly Gates, they needed a tune-up. “What the fuck?” he cried, blinded, half-deafened, staggering
“Parker?” came a voice.
A voice he knew.
A voice he’d listened to, and coaxed to laughter, and pulled into intense detective work, and thought about, and jacked off to, and dearly loved until the owner of that voice had turned around and strangled him dead.
So was he dead again? “What?” he said. “Arthur?”
He turned and threw his hand over his eyes—that was it, that presence, too grand and huge to look at, blinding-bright golden robes shimmering with faint patterns that bloomed and died in his vision, and some sort of limbs like waves of ink spread along the ground.
And he could feel that if not for Sunny, tucked into his head, he would have been overwhelmed.
Buoyed in those tentacles were two people, nestled up against the robe, one a little girl, and the other—
A voice that was and was not Sunny’s spoke. Arthur? Arthur, it… it can't be.
“Parker?” Arthur Lester said.
Arthur… something terrible had happened to him. Scars pockmarked the right side of his face. His hair was long and sweat-sticky, falling past his shoulders. His beard was salt-and-pepper, and gray threaded through the hair at his temples, and those eyes—
They were still fucking yellow.
“Put…” Arthur said, looking up into the darkness of a crowned hood on that massive shape. His voice was ragged. “Put me…”
Gently, tenderly, the tentacle set Arthur on the ground. Arthur staggered forward on weak knees, but his face wasn’t quite orienting the right way.
John had his eyes, Sunny had said, and Parker swallowed.
They weren't looking directly at him, but they sure could still cry. “Parker? Y... you're alive?” Arthur said, voice cracking (and Parker had not forgotten, had not lost any of the memory of that voice).
There was so much… much. Right now. Had Sunny been right? Arthur had murdered, and… vanished? To this place? "You're alive?" said Parker. "Fucking... you... son of a bitch, you're here?"
A snare drum rolled. “And guest star number two!” that voice rang out, the voice of the Outer God.
Watch out! It was a desperate cry, sharp and snarled and full of terror.
“I got this,” soothed Parker, though he absolutely did not.
Arthur stopped as though he’d been gut punched. “Yellow?” he choked.
Parker winced, just as Sunny began to seethe in the back of his head. MURDERER! Sunny cried.
“Easy, Sunny,” said Parker.
No! Parker, get away from him! He’s fucking dangerous! Sunny snarled, a dog with its leg in a trap. He'll hurt you! He... he'll... get away from us!
And then it got worse. Impossibly, it got worse, and it got complicated.
The drum roll rioted, and instruments blared from nowhere, painfully loud. “And of course,” cried the Outer God, his voice weirdly distorted and echoing, “what’s a new season without a new villain? Guest star number three, straight from the wilds of the sweetest digs in the Dreamlands! Covered in the sins of his youth, filled with power from the nastiest rituals you’ve ever seen, scion of the Order of the Falling Star, and one of my favorite puppets… Wallace (ace… ace…) Larsooooooooon!”
The music shrieked, and an unseen crowd bellowed.
And Larson stepped into view, staggering like Parker had. "What? What is... where am I? I do declare,” he said, smooth and calm like this happened every day. “What is this place?”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand action!" the Outer God bellowed—and disappeared, along with the spotlights, the crowd, the ambient noise, leaving them all alone in a dark throne room, in thick and near-complete gloom.
It still hurt to look toward that being, whatever it was, though Parker briefly couldn’t see anything but silhouettes. “Fuck,” he murmured.
Larson heard him. “You! Thief! How in the hell did you get loose again?”
Hastur, said the voice that was and was not Sunny's.
You’ve got to be kidding, thought Parker, and wondered if this meant they were all in hell. “Oh, fuck this guy,” he said, wanting to lend Sunny strength. “He ain’t getting you back. You hear me? Try it, asshole!”
Parker, I’m scared, said Sunny, which made him feel half-feral.
But apparently not all feral. Not nearly as feral as Arthur.
Parker knew Arthur. Knew him as a man who’s studied another for years can know, and saw the change. Even in the gloom, he saw the switch flip.
Saw the moment that body language stiffened, saw the moment Arthur’s brain turned off.
Larson turned toward that radiant something that hurt to look at, fell to his knees, and proclaimed a bunch of gibberish.
And Arthur—
Hastur! shouted not-Sunny’s voice.
Arthur lunged with murder his every inch, teeth showing in a white rictus as though he planned to bite Larson to death, fingers curved like claws.
Maybe it’s not hell, Parker thought. Maybe I’ve just gone crazy. And with the habit born of years past, of chasing this man down from the time he was self-destructing in Jack’s Bar to their most twisted child-murder cases, Parker ran after Arthur Lester to stop him from doing something dumb.
So I made an God au for Malevolent here who I got so far
Arthur-God of death & Tragedy
John-Wisdom & Judgement
King in Yellow-God of madness
Faroe-Goddess of water
Addison-Goddess of Revenge
Eddie-God of mechanary
Larson-God of wealth & greed
Marie-Goddess of home & hospitality & fire
Kellin-God of war
Kayne-God of chaos & choices
Yellow-God of Lies
Bella-goddess of childbirth
The trader-God of trade
Scratch-God of Nightmares
Butcher- God of music & hunting
Oscar-God of life
Noel-God of mysteries
Parker-God of patience
Soo I redid some redoing and adding some characters
Arthur-God of death & tragedy
John-Wisdom & Judgment
King in yellow-God of Madness
Faroe- Goddess of water
Addison-Goddess of revenge
Eddie-God of mechanry
Larson-God of greed and wealth
Marie-Godess of hospitality, home and fire
Kellin-God of War
Kayne-God of chaos, choices and deals
Yellow-God of lies
Bella-Goddess of childbirth and life
Trade-God of trades
Scratch-God of nightmare
Butcher-God of music & hunting
Oscar-God of loyal and devotion
Noel-God of peace
Parker-god of patience
The witch-Godess of nature
Yorick- God of tricks and information
Lilly-Godess of Medicine and healing
Daniel-God of manners and rules
So I made an God au for Malevolent here who I got so far
Arthur-God of death & Tragedy
John-Wisdom & Judgement
King in Yellow-God of madness
Faroe-Goddess of water
Addison-Goddess of Revenge
Eddie-God of mechanary
Larson-God of wealth & greed
Marie-Goddess of home & hospitality & fire
Kellin-God of war
Kayne-God of chaos & choices
Yellow-God of Lies
Bella-goddess of childbirth
The trader-God of trade
Scratch-God of Nightmares
Butcher- God of music & hunting
Oscar-God of life
Noel-God of mysteries
Parker-God of patience
My Reasons to Live by Horroreyecollective
Fandoms:Malevolent (Podcast)
Teen And Up Audiences
No Archive Warnings Apply
Gen
Complete Work
21 Aug 2024
Tags
No Archive Warnings Apply John & Arthur Lester Arthur Lester & Faroe Lester Arthur Lester & Peter "Parker" Yang Arthur Lester & Bella Lester John (Malevolent) Arthur Lester Faroe Lester Bella Lester Peter "Parker" Yang (Malevolent) Lilly the Buopoth (Malevolent) Blood and Injury Injury Episode: Coda (Malevolent)Angstober 2024 Implied/Referenced Character Death Hurt/Comfort Emotional Hurt/Comfort Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Summary
Arthur thought about his five reasons to live.
Day 02: Countdown
Series
Part 2 of Angstober 2024
Language: English Words: 527 Chapters: 1/1
i was actually gonna send you a message about further arcana alignments bc i loved the initial post - potato-lord-but-not seems to have already gotten most of what i was gonna suggest, was initially gonna put faroe as death but the world does work much better. yknow who would work Better as death though? parker. both i guess in the literal sense and in the sense that parker has been the herald of major change in arthur's life? ie death-as-metamorphosis. the death arcana is generally misunderstood as physical death but the emphasis in meaning is actually on cycles and change, specifically death/rebirth. like. i can't be the only one who sees the parallels with the guy that singlehandedly Started the narrative the guys are on through his death (and also his entry in arthur's life). idk i havent really done this before but i am a little Obsessed with this concept feel free to fact check me on that
YES!! SOMEONE ELSE GETS IT!! (and awe thank you <3) Death is one of my favorite cards. Like The Devil, it's generally misunderstood what it actually means (guilty as charged. The Catholic side of myself took a minute to separate the meanings when I was first getting into it). Death is SUCH a beautiful card and you nailed it with the "metamorphosis" description. Parker is a wonderful pairing with Death. On the surface level, yes, Parker died but his death means so much more than that. Like Faroe's death being an end to Arthur's somewhat normalcy, Parker's death signaled the end of that cycle of Arthur's life. He was irrevocably changed the moment he opened that book. That's a key aspect to Death as a card. It is inevitable and resisting the change only leads to more pain. It is the acceptance of it and moving along with it that allows for it to bear fruit. Death as a card is good. It is very much a light at the end of the tunnel sort of thing. Arthur lost his partner, but he eventually gained an even deeper love and connection with John. And THAT is beautiful. This a very long-winded way of saying absolutely Parker is Death.
Fic Ideas that will not leave my brain, but writing and me don't get along no matter how much I love it.
A fic of Parkthur going through the plot of Brokeback Mountain. Ennis is Arthur, Jack is Parker
Some wolf/dog John story, maybe snapshots of his perspective during particularly canine moments, or he gets a wolf or werewolf body.
Percy Jackson and The Mechanisms crossover. Probably following the vague plot of PJO, and one for Magnus Chase.
Simple cute Parkthur fic, where Arthur is remembering their eventual fall into love, and at the end he meets him again either resurrected or didn't really die. Dancing will be included somewhere
Maybe something from Anna Stancyzk's POV
John meets Parker or/and Faroe, and recounts it to Arthur.
Maybe finishing that one Kunizai fic if I get back into BSD.
I'm having a really hard time with motivation so maybe this will make my brain make me do it. If you wanna write one of these tag me!
"Dancing? I can’t imagine you dancing.'
"Me neither. I’ve never been one for it. I can’t think of a better time in my life to start dancing more."
I call bullshit, you danced your little heart out with Parker I know it.
This was really fun to draw, it's a big milestone in a bunch of my skills, like shoes, expressions, and poses. I would just like to say Parkthur is an underrated ship, it needs a ship name like Angeleyes, Puppy love, Private Eyes etc...
Lord give me restraint because if he gave me strength I'd have Arthur Lester on his knees whimpering for an entirely different reason
malevolent 42 spoilers (ish)
im gonna need john to pull out the astral projection here and save arthur. please harlan can we have nice things
faggots. no sorry it's pride month. nice little queers
she's my roman empire tbh............ t4t bella + arthur canon (trust me)
Forever mourning about one character that's fucking dead at the start.
Parker Collage!!!
Doing digital collages is a lot of fun!! And I love Parker
Reasons for why I added things below the cut, and link to the playlist I made this the cover of
Blood and Sand poster, since I like to believe Parker watched it with Arthur.
the middlemost drink on the bottom right corner, is the Blood and Sand drink. The drink Parker got for Arthur.
The other drink that's closer to the border, is a old fashioned whiskey. I got confused, and referenced a Jarthur fic instead of a Parker fic, and I can't get rid of it.
Mooncakes on a plate, while it is a reference to Parker being most likely chinese, it's a reference to a fic, where Parker shares some with Arthur and Faroe. (Under the Moon by TheWallsHaveEars)
The sketch of a red man wrestling, was just a reference to his fighting spirit, and the common hc that he does wrestling.
The filmstrip is a call tothe decade, and I think he'd like movies. Every image in it is their on purpose. Listed top to bottom:
Can't really see it, but it's a ravine a call to the bedrock symbolism
Two men hanging out in a bar, like Parker and Arthur did.
Two men almost kissing while dancing/embracing (Parker is gay for Arthur)
A bar fight, Parker is the more aggressive of the two
A man smoking. I hc that Parker smokes, and he uses a smoke break to leave a social interaction alone with Arthur.
Again can't really see it, but it's a piano.
The other poster looking thing is a cigarette ad, again hc smoker.
Boxing gloves, some people think hc be boxes. Again he's the fighter
The green flowers, are green carnations. A covert symbol for homosexuality.
Art by Leyendecker, a man suspected for being gay. Also these 2 guys have the casual companionship vibe, Parkthur gives off.
I tried to make it look like they scratched their initials in the wood A + P.
Please. Please reblog with your Parker designs. I will pay you $100 in cold fake cash.
Got some Malevolent coded songs
I love doing song annotation, and recently have been doing more. here's my Malevolent song annots so far
Like Real People do by Hozier This one is for Parkthur, the companionship, and silent support. Not caring what the other has done. Also Parker's ass is dead
Touched by Vast Oscar annotation. Oscar is down bad for Arthur, and his eldritch and atheist swag
Howl by Florence + The Machine Private Eyes song. They are toxic yaoi, that like to fight each other.
IN MY MOUTH by Black Dresses Arthur, my homeboy is a cannibal, and a bit of a freak.
Work Song by Hozier Parkthur, again Parker's ass is dead. Parker also saved Arthur. This one is good for resurrection Parker AUs
Music make me feral, and Malevolent makes me feral. ALSO IF YOU LEAVE COMMENTS I LOVE YOU
the fact that Parker dies before the series even starts is the biggest travesty of Malevolent
I think we should make a Travesty Trio, of Bella, Faroe, and Parker. Host a book club or something. I think they deserve comfort, and companionship, a safe place to talk about their lives, and Arthur
Could you by any chance draw some more Parker? Your design of him could possibly be my favorite.
he's my favorite character :]
I have been thinking of this post way too much, I'm gonna write a blurb per Parkthur art. Sorry Dollins fans, but I'm here for the Parkthur fans (me)
Number 1
Arthur sat shoulder to shoulder with Parker. A new case wrapped up. Now all that was left was to celebrate the completion of an easy, well paying case.
Parker smiles at Art, Arthur didn't catch the mischievous glint until too late.
And then Parker's hand was in his hair. Undoing his meticulous styling and hair gel, definitely getting his hand sticky in the process. Arthur smiled in spite of himself.
"Get your hand off me!" Arthur complained despite smiling like a beaming bride "I'm not a fucking child."
Parker ruffled his hair more, laughing at Arthur.
"Maybe next time you try to convince me to stop, don't smile so wide"
Number 2
Arthur sat at the counter, tea in one hand, and a mediocre novel in the other. It was a sweet, domestic type day. Eating breakfast cooked by Parker, and then enjoying the early morning.
He loved slow mornings like this, always had.
Too engrossed in his book, he hadn't noticed someone coming up behind him, until he felt a breath on his neck. Smiling, there was only one person it could be.
Parker wrapped his arms around Arthur, and buries hia face in his shoulder. Inhaling the scent of old clothes, aftershave, and cologne.
A slight grin settled on Arthur's face, enjoying the comforting pressure of Parker.
Number 3
Number 4
Parker had that cocky grin.
"you really are a sight for sore eyes" Parker smiled from where he sat on the counter.
Arthur grimaced at the blush spreading across his face.
"you're more handsome than any other man, and trust me I've seen plenty"
Parker tended to do this every once and awhile, complimenting, and flustering the hell out of him.
"I catch myself unable to stop lookin at you. You're stunnin, my beau." Parker stepped down
Arthur's breath stuttered "You're just saying that"
"you want me to prove it?" Parker smiled "Cause, it'd be my honor."
Arthur was sure he was blushing like some sort of damsel. He nodded, anticipation freezing him.
Pushing him gently against the counter, Parker kissed him. It was a loving, caring kiss. No hunger, just love. Arthur had to steady himself against the counter.
They'd kissed dozens of times, but each time shocked Arthur. Someone loved him so thoroughly, someone found him attractive. It was enough to stun any man.
Parker was a damned good kisser.
The case wasn't doing well, they were scratching the bottom of the barrel for clues. Some things hit too close to home. They were both tense, they had to finish it quickly to put food on the table.
"Shit, English" Parker groaned.
Arthur hummed "Agreed"
Arthur bit his lip, willing away any tears. Parker caught notice, ever observant Parker. Always sniffing out when Arthur wasn't doing so hot.
"Can I help you get rid of any stress, love?" Parker said, full of care.
Arthur breathed "I would like that, yes." Parker smiled, and he smiled back.
Softly holding his head, Parker tilted his head up and kissed him.
Arthur held onto Parker like he was on the verge of falling. It felt so good being cared for like this. He let Parker kiss away his hurts.
They both relaxed in the embrace, finally a breath of fresh air.
Dollins and Parkthur Dollins and Parkthuuurrrrr yiippppeeeeeeeee for gay people
Posted a new fic!!
Really like this one, makes me feel bad for my boy Parker though. I was not kind to him
I got inspired and instead of sleeping I wrote this:
"They sat curled amongst each other on the couch. Parker raised his head from where it was resting on Arthur's shoulder.
He was laughing, one of the best noises Arthur ever had the pleasure of hearing. Parker had said a stupid joke, and Arthur responded, he didn't care enough to remember what he said, all he had to do was bask in Parker's presence.
They weren't doing anything. They weren't kissing or anything, just sharing each other's breath.
Arthur couldn't really explain the particularities of the love he felt for Parker. All he knew was that it was overwhelming. So much it ached.
"I love you." Arthur muttered into Parker's hair.
"I love ya too." Parker sighed, content "You love me the most, eh Art?" Parker goaded.
Arthur went silent. Images of an innocent, smart, sweet, funny, wild little girl floated through his head. No matter how overwhelming his love for Parker was, it would never be the most. Nothing would ever be not important to him then Faroe, his daughter.
"No," Arthur almost whispered "You're not. But you're a strong second"
It would be lying if Parker said he didn't burn with curiosity, and a bit of jealousy. He knew about Arthur's past romantic life, so it wasn't likely to be an ex-beau. But that just raised more questions. If it wasn't for his respect and love for Arthur he'd be desperate to get answers.
Arthur carded his fingers through Parker's hair, almost apologetically.
"That's perfectly fine, English." Parker curled tighter "I don't need to be your #1, just your lover."
And they both smiled, and burned with domestic, holy, love. And they cursed all the gods that damned their relationship."
Made a lil' audio edit for Malevolent!
I might do other characters, most likely Oscar
Song is Mr. Loverman by Ricky Montgomery
Other audio is Part 26 "The Bedrock" from Malevolent, by Harlan Guthrie