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maria-from-ga · 2 months

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Cyborg, the Greatest Titan

(Titans (2023) #7- Cyborg shows why no one can bring him down)

So there was once a seemingly innocuous question asked on Titans Twitter:

Though some used it to prop up their faves, it turned into a serious and big discussion: Who is the Greatest Titan, epitomizing what it means to be a Titan the most?

There were a variety of answers, majority being one of Dick, Donna, Starfire, Raven, or even Wally. But what I noticed was the surprising lack of one answer: Cyborg.

One of the most popular Titans, whom DC clearly sees as one of the Titans Trinity (upper right corner):

(The Promotional Art for DC Comics' Dawn of DC Initiative by Dan Mora. Cyborg was to chosen to represent the Titans along with Nightwing and Starfire)

Whose removal from Titans lore caused a massive fan uproar, yet among Titans Twitter, probably the most dedicated of Titan fans, Cyborg's name was barely mentioned as a candidate to be the Greatest Titan:

Victor Stone who at his lowest, found the Titans, a team who became the family he needed who loved him without judgement:

(New Teen Titans #1 - Cyborg meeting the Titans for the first time)

(Teen Titans 5x10 "Go" - The prequel episode where all the Titans meet. Cyborg is ashamed of his cyber-mechanics but Beast Boy repeatedly assures him that they are cool and shouldn't be hidden)

The man who took what the Titans did for him and made it his mission to be that for others.

(New Teen Titans #22 and Titans Vol 2 #21 - (Left) Cyborg realizes the Titans mean so much to him because they are his friends who helped him not feel alone & (Right) Cyborg's internal monologue about how Titans taught him being part of team and accepting help from others was a good thing)

(Teen Titans 5x10 "Go" - Assured by Beast Boy, Cyborg tell an ashamed Raven she's a freak among freaks and fits in just fine, a nice callback to his NTT origin)

(Teen Titans (2003) #1- Cyborg relaunches the Teen Titans to include the upcoming generation of teen heroes so they can have a place to grieve Donna's death & find acceptance)

(Teen Titans 3x12 - "Titans East" - Cyborg helps establish the first off-shoot of the Teen Titans: Titans East)

He transformed the team from simply being a group of former sidekicks to a safe haven for all teen heroes

(Teen Titans #100 and Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: Together - showcasing the multi-generational roster of Titans that Cyborg helped establish)

(Teen Titans 5x12- Titans Together - The global roster of Teen Titans that Cyborg helped to create that expanded from the initial off-shot of Titans East also started by Cyborg)

The Titans Are About A Team of Teens That Grew Into A Family

(Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: Together - Donna talking about how much the Titans grew from a team of 5 into multi-generational families)

A Family of Teenagers that not only help each other in the struggles of being a hero but also the struggles of being an adolescent, having turbulent emotions in a turbulent world

(Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: Together - Donna talking about how much the Titans had it tougher than the League because they had been facing Justice-League-level problems since they were kids, and yet every time still came out on top)

And who has committed to this mission more than Cyborg?

Victor who fought for the team when everyone including past leaders like Dick and Donna walked away:

(Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day and Titans (2008) #21 - Left: After Donna's death, Dick decides to disband the Titans and everyone walked away. Right: After Final Crisis and Prometheus' attack on Roy, nearly all the Titans have left the current Titans roster, but Cyborg stayed fighting for the team)

Why: Because he knew how much future teen heroes needed the Titans. To guide them and give them a home as the Titans did for him long ago

(Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day and Titans East Special- Left: After Donna's funeral, Cyborg sees members of Young Justice, especially Cassie, not handling Donna's death well and generally feeling worthless and he decides to restart the Titans. Right: Cyborg tried to convince the New Teen Titans and Roy to start up a new team of Teen Titans to help more teen heroes, but they all refused)

Stubbornly keeping Titans alive when everyone else wouldn't, allowing Titans to reach their greatest potential: a global network so any teen of any generation can find a home

(Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: Together - Titans across generations have gathered to join the fight against Batman Who Laughs)

A man who because the Titans gained utter defiance in who he is, saving not only himself from despair, but also became devoted to giving other teens that same courage, inspiring them to show that they are not freaks nor they are ever alone, thus changing so many lives (go to 2:38 for the start of the iconic speech, but I recommend starting at 2:17)

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(Teen Titans 3x13 - "Titans East" - Cyborg's defiance in who he is prevented him from falling to Blood's mind control, defeating Blood saving his fellow Titans, and thus saving the day)

Victor is not only a candidate to be the Greatest Titan, but ultimately is the Most Deserving.

Cyborg is the Greatest Titan, the Lynchpin, without whom the Titans will not work and ultimately cannot because he believes in it the most and thus embodies its ethos the best

(Teen Titans #20- Tim Drake realizing how essential Cyborg is to the team and how he changed Tim and helped Tim after the death of Donna)

The Greatest Character in Fiction, An Inspiration, A Legend: BOOYAH!!!

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72stars · 9 days

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RH: Prometheus doodle dump again, with both digital sketchbook and non-sketchbook doodles

top row: current and initial rough designs for a large swath of characters that may or may not appear to varying degrees of importance in RH:P (e.g. Natalia was originally supposed to play a larger role but as planning progresses is likely to end up in a flashback at most, rip). notably missing: the Joker and an oc I affectionately refer to as This Fffire (the fire guy that’s shown up in some previous art for this story idea) (note: ???s denote where a character is at the story’s beginning still undecided on a codename, or in Roy’s case has multiple and just answers to whatever)

2nd row: design adventures with Starfire costume design ideas, Duke design roughs guest-starring Jason and my love of wing-like power manifestations, and Stephanie guest-starring Tim and their daughter (who is Tim’s in this AU and also they kept her and both raise her despite having broken up a couple of years back)

3rd row: more design adventures with hairstyle explorations for Dana + trying to figure out her face, and cape doodles of Batman guest-starring Robin!Jay

last row: non-sketchbook adventures, with a random face doodle of Jason, outfit idea and don’t worry about his backstory he doesn’t (and doesn’t remember the relevant part anyway) doodles of Kieran, and the traditional standoff that occurs every time Dick tries to have Jay & Tim over at the same time before the 50/50 chance of either tensely trying to get along for Dick’s sake and eventually mostly enjoying themselves or one or both leaving kicks in

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weirdworldofwinnie · 7 months

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A Darling Distraction

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only Oneshot

(Mood board by Selene Shelby @forgottenpeakywriter, this fic is especially for you, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the initial idea and support💕)

Summary: Robert's been married to you for a while and now in Los Alamos, after the last few years of hard work and a 'successful' Trinity Test, he desperately needs something he won't admit: his wife in pink satin lingerie and sexual stress relief.

Word Count: ~3,703

Warnings: Smut, unprotected and oral sex both ways, light daddy kink + breeding kink, some angst, mention of infidelity, period stereotypical gender roles, unspecified age gap (less than 10 years)

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT historically accurate to real life and is inspired by Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film. It isn't supposed to be in total support and a complete reflection of the man's character, only my interpretation. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

This is strictly a one shot story, no more will be added to it. If you want to read other Cillian!Oppenheimer fanfiction, check out my Masterlist

Tags: @happysparklingshadows (@forgottenpeakywriter wanted me to tag you), @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

It had been less than 24 hours since the denotation of the gadget and Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's eyes had been engulfed in fire; the aftermath of a hot white flash as bright as a hundred suns blowing out his pupils, followed by a colorful mushrooming cloud that was somehow simultaneously beautiful and horrific. Between the hours before and after Trinity, he had thought of Jean and her influential poetry, and you of course, but now the bomb had become him and only that one vision filled his mind, haunting him.

All day he had been at the lab and offices, but mostly at the main mess hall celebrations that flowed with chatter and too many drinks shared amongst the military and scientists alike whom many believed had been witness to a great success, a miracle, but also the worst of humanity had just been born into creation. Oppenheimer had become what he supposed he had been destined to be all along: Prometheus, doomed to bring great power and advancement to humanity at a steep cost. He was the destroyer of worlds, but not technically yet, and that was the worst of it. The early morning test was exactly that; a trial, a preview of what was to manifest, and very soon would the world get to see such power he had helped birth. He desired peace, but the trick was he was only attaining that through warfare like never before. The stress was far from over and he was afraid to become a nervous wreck by the end of the decade with all these dark pervasive thoughts and doubts. Depression was nigh on the back of pressuring anxiety and there was no way anything would ever be the same again. He had changed, the world had changed, seamlessly overnight.

As he clumsily unlocked the front door to his home with slightly shaking fingers and stumbled inside, reaching up to remove his porkpie hat and hang it up on the coatrack, he called out your name hoarsely. After a beat of listening and there was no response, he sighed... Maybe you'd already gone to bed or were tucking in the children, whatever it was he didn't know and didn't care because he was too wrapped up in his own emotions. He felt ecstatic that all the hard work had come to fruition and they cemented history, but he was also at a paradoxical point of great accomplishment and great moral failure; the duality of man. But most importantly: it worked. Now what they would do with it was another matter he couldn't quit thinking about.

He reflexively twitched for a cigarette in his shirt pocket, but he was empty, so he walked to the bedroom single mindedly and fumbled for a box in the side table, yanking out the drawer and shifting through to pick up a pack of Chesterfield's.

"Darling?"

He jumped, spinning around with a huff and hand on his hip to see you standing in the shadows of the entryway and draped in a pink robe snug around your frame and he noticed your feet were bare as if you'd just been dressing.

"Y/N, I thought you were... Are the children in bed?"

"An hour ago, they were fussy and very insistent with missing Daddy, but once I read to them they finally settled down. You've been absent all day because of the test, what made you actually come home?"

He shook his head, finding relief and refuge in taking a long drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke out, gesturing at you with the butt of it.

"You brought in the sheets like I told you to?"

"Of course, I knew."

"Good."

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his forehead and you noticed the tiredness he exuded for a man who usually was so attentive with higher energy levels, and how sunken in and sad his wide ocean eyes were. These past few years had taken a tremendous toll on his wellbeing more than ever... His jutting cheekbones and general gauntness were more pronounced with the unhealthy loss of weight and crinkles of wrinkles were all he truly kept gaining in eventual amounts; crow's feet, forehead lines, nasolabial folds, and etches under his eyes. His dark hair, kept meticulously cut short, was greying at the sides. Even his teeth, if inspected closely, were on a fast track to faintly showing signs of aging decay from all the smoking and drinking he did on a daily basis.

Robert was not the picture, nor rarely the temperament, of boyish youth you remembered from Berkeley.

Truthfully, you and him hadn't had proper sex in many months; it just wasn't very desirable or convenient between his never ending work that created distance between him and anyone who wasn't a scientist, the continuing socializing and parties with many other faces in town, and you personally spending days cleaning up and minding after little (often crying) children who did not have a clue of what their parents were doing out in the middle of the New Mexico desert surrounded by barbed wire fencing and uniformed men always patrolling. Life here was anything but boring, but the bedroom sure had become so. More often than not, Robert couldn't sleep soundly while you kept to your designated side of the bed and tried to ignore his tossing and turnings until eventually he doped himself up on sleeping pills to cope. He also hadn't been the same since the news of Jean Tatlock's passing and you highly suspected - no, knew - he had an affair during his trip to California once he had his security clearance approved. Of course it upset you he could be so idiotic and unfaithful, yet it wasn't shocking given his womanizing track record, but what made you more concerned was knowing how psychologically troubled Jean had been and if Robert thought he could offer her some consolation, he may have just made it worse and partly done her in. If he blamed himself for her death, you couldn't imagine carrying around that kind of guilt in addition to what he spent his time creating to end the war.

He stood now, restless, and began to pace an invisible groove into the flooring as he continually smoked and muttered to himself. You drifted away into the bathroom and shut the door, shrugging off your robe to the floor. You were completely nude underneath, coming off of a fresh bath and you had spritzed yourself with the best perfume you owned, hoping to surprise Robert, but something was clearly missing here.

Yes, and you know obviously what it is. It's his happiness, the spontaneousness that he has lost ever since he ran those calculations and went to Albert Einstein about a chain reaction igniting the atmosphere and blowing us all to bits. It was less than 0.1% chance, but it reminded him of the bigger issue... creating such a weapon with the power to destroy oneself was mighty weighty on any half decent man's conscience and even a rotten one's, for he too would be annihilated in the process if ever taken far enough. Everything these days was pure existential dread, no doubt about that, and no wonder Robert wasn't in the mood for love. His heart was being drained of it daily and you wanted to help, to fill him again even if just for once. It was difficult to watch him continually self-destruct and negatively affect those around him.

So you plucked up the ready matching pink folded satin lingerie he'd gifted you for the fifth wedding anniversary off the countertop and slipped into it, banking on the fact that it made you look sexually irresistible... And oh, it certainly did dial the appeal up to ten. You sauntered out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where Robert was now seated on the bed, nose deep in a book and paperwork, clearly engrossed and a permanent frown was driven into his skin between his sculpted eyebrows.

"I have something for you, love," you announced softly as you leaned in the doorway, letting your body be on full display in such a loose, risqué little number.

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly, haphazardly fluttering pages.

"Are you even reading any of that?" you asked flatly and he accidentally dropped it to the floor, hands still quivering and he tried to get up, wavering on his feet as you watched him in a strange state of both nerves cracking and drunkenness. You ached to make him better and by golly, tonight you would even if you had to throw yourself at him.

"Robert, don't you want to look at me? I have a surprise on..."

"I should pick this up and go to bed with a pill," he said to only himself, bending over and scooping the paperwork and book into his arms before standing unsteadily and he turned his back, carelessly dumping the materials onto the side table. You quickly strode up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, fingers drumming on his metal belt buckle splashed with a tinge of turquoise design.

He froze as you wound a bare leg around one of his and he reached behind his back, brushing your scantily clad silky bottom, fingers gliding over the fabric and making you moisten.

"The lingerie, you're wearing it," he stated and you couldn't quite tell if he was delighted by this or not.

"So I am, I know it's been a while since you gifted me with it, so tonight I thought I'd finally return the favor after the amount of stress we've been under, especially you."

"You-you're proposing I need... oh no. No, I don't know if I'm, uh, ready-no, I don't know if I-I can, I mean do-handle it-" he stuttered out and you fought a laugh. Oppie the great improviser, the genius, the man always in control of the proverbial cockpit was ironically clearly not thinking all that straight tonight and for once in his life, absolutely tongue-tied. You may not have much power as a housewife (that earned psychology degree had been so far deemed useless once you moved with him and had children) in this godforsaken place, but you had this way of melting your husband to molten lava that no one else was capable of. His mouth utterly agape, you ran your hands around the leather of the belt and snaked another leg around his, squeezing gently into his side as you put your lips close to his ear, murmuring.

"You know that we both need it, so just let me work my magic like a good old fashioned whore..."

He bristled, catching your hand still fondling his belt and pushing away lightly.

"I would never refer to you as that," he said, completely unamused and perhaps with a veil of disgust too that you thought seemed unnecessary.

"What am I, then, just the stoic scientific director's wife who will be at your side when you receive a Nobel for your work in stopping the world from global conflict with explosions and implosions?"

His sharp jaw clenched and in one swift motion, he abruptly fell over sideways onto the bed and you startled, leaning over and gripping at his shoulder, worried.

"Oh, Robert, are you sick? I was just being a bit sarcastic."

He closed his eyes, obviously in some sort of internal turmoil that didn't merit sharing fully.

"No, I just... We don't need to do this, not now, not when I'm having a pretty bad time. I'm fatigued, probably drunk, and I should talk to the General tomorrow about the schedule. I'll be wanting to fly to Washington soon; the President will be expecting a briefing and they need to determine the exact target and then once it's all over we'll need to settle somewhere else and..."

He began to murmur anxiously about all the engagements he was expecting (postwar and not) and you shook your head, pushing down on his chest.

"But don't you want a distraction, a temporary all consuming joy for one night?" you pressed and he finally looked up at you, really gazed at you, and a genuine buttery smile spread across his mouth.

"Come here, my love," he whispered while tugging at the lingerie panty bow unsuccessfully and you clamored onto the bed beside him. He paused, licking his lips, and then spoke too briskly.

"We'll get straight to it and once I finish, it should help me sleep naturally better than those prescriptions."

You sat up, shoving him playfully and scowling.

"That has to be the least sexist statement you've ever said to me in the bedroom. Don't you want a marathon, not a sprint? Enjoy me, Robert. That's what I'm really here for anyhow, your darling distraction."

He took this in, then rolled over on top of you, his hot alcohol and nicotine infused breath on your cheeks as he breathed heavily, and you made a cringing face.

"How many drinks have you had today? You smell of a bar and I'm thinking you should rinse your mouth out before you get the luxury of having me."

"You do, hm? I guess that's a command, Mrs. Oppenheimer," he smirked and sat up, shoving off to the bathroom and you went to go put on a record on the turntable in the living room. The classical music crackled through and you walked back to the bedroom, laying into a seductive position onto the bed, one leg propped up with a bent knee and your arm draped across the headboard.

When he came back, his eyes widened at the sight of you as though it was finally registering and he wet his lips again, unapologetically hungry. He moved to the bed, shrugging his suit jacket off to drop to the floor, taking off his black tie, and mindlessly undoing the buttons on his white shirt. That was quickly discarded as you waited for him to remove his socks and shoes, pretending to be impatient by switching position to cross your legs and checking your manicure.

"Hurry up, Oppie, I have a time limit here."

He shook his head disapprovingly, kicking the shoes under the bed and whipping off his belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk before wrestling out of his trousers and you stared at his boxer clad skinny frame, the cock not even engaged yet... Looks like he's making you do all the work again. A petulant sigh escaped when you rolled your eyes and he pointed a finger, chastising.

"Patience, my love. Hasn't Daddy taught you anything at this point?"

You bit your lip as he leaned over and his bare chest collided with yours... You pulled him into an antsy kiss, mouths crushing each other needily and he tasted of tobacco and toothpaste, a strange combination, but better than before. You felt the slight sheen of cold water he had splashed on his skin transferring to yours and you gripped his neck, fingers splaying across the back of his head.

His own hands went to fondle your covered breasts and you pulled away from his kiss for a moment.

"You are divinely doll like in this, I love such feminine expression," he murmured in a kind of rapture.

"Shame it has to be stripped of me," you whispered with raised eyebrows.

"It's only garments, what really counts is here..." He suddenly squeezed both your breasts and you let out a spurt of high pitched noise, allowing him to remove the top, shimming it off your body in one motion and tossing it over his shoulder where the strap caught on the bedpost.

He thumbed over one nipple and then transferred to the other, teasing you to rock hard nubs. He moved to your panty, slipping it down and off to expose you, and you kicked it to the end of the bed. Then, in turn, you yanked down his underwear and his cock sprung out into your ready grip. You began to pump on it and getting him to a more erect state, rising up. He groaned lightly and you pulled the oozing tip to your mouth, parting lips and flicking your tongue out to carefully lick a strip along the length before taking head, making him grow stiffer and wetter by the minute. Your mouth popped of his length, swallowing, and he gripped your waist as he focused hard on you over his throbbing member.

"What do you want, my love? Do you want me?" he whispered huskily and you shivered in anticipated arousal.

"Yes, darling, I want you... I need you, you own me and I own you."

"Sounds like a fair arrangement," he breathed before crushing into you and began to rub, purely animalistic, all over your smooth body. His head burrowed down into your freshly shaved pussy just like how you and him liked it clean, licking at your folds and massaging your lower abdomen in a desperate frenzy. You dug nails into his hair, curling, and bucked your hips to meet his appetite when he slowly slithered on top. You groaned as you took him, all of him, and let his penis expand and stretch out your core to the fullest extent, clenching instinctively around the shaft as he thrust repeatedly until you were sent easily right over the edge in freefall.

"Mmm, Robert!" you squealed in ecstasy and he muffled you, hand slapping down over your mouth and shushing insistently.

"Shh, don't need to wake the children now. God knows they'll find Mommy and Daddy intimately together one of these days and be scarred for life at the sight." He chuckled as you whined behind his palm and grooved further at a pace you both knew very well. After years of marriage and sensual exploration, he knew all your sweet spots and sensitivities, when was too much, and yet it was taking all his self control not to completely plow you apart right now. His skin smacked against yours as he ground into you, hands everywhere at once and he peppered wet kisses all along your jaw to nape.

When his warm cum finally jetted into you, flooding in your cervix fully, you were unable to constrain a loud moan and he growled primally, his whole small frame shuddered through his own climax as you gripped his back, using his boney spine as placeholders for your fingers as he rocked further at a steady pace, not going to come out right away.

More orgasms came fast and one after the other, especially as you rolled over and he took his place beneath and you rode his cock in a fervor, letting the peak hit all over again and he watched in a dazed nirvana as you pleasured. When he finally pulled out from your used leaking hole, you could tell how satisfied he was having been able to hopefully successfully seed you and that signature smugness was so evident.

You laid panting at his side as he took up another smoke, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing and drifting off to sleep. You interweaved legs, soaking wet with combined fluids dripping onto the sheets, and he flit a free finger down to your soaked pussy, groping and nearly overstimulating you with another orgasm you didn't think could be as strong as the first. He grinned at the effect and cupped your mound with his palm, dominant of it as he spoke softly.

"Groves pointed out that I have no knowledge of birth control, which is true. By this rate, you'll be having yet another baby in nine months and I can only hope we are far from this current landscape and political climate then, never to return. You know, I'm hoping for another boy this time."

You sighed with a smile, rubbing your belly and his hand joined yours, rubbing circles over your navel.

"You make a wonderful mother," he commented in praise and you laughed lightly, bitterly, and glanced at him.

"I'm not perfect, I can barely hold it together these days when they're hungry, tired, and upset for no reason I can physically see at all... Sometimes I wish to wring their necks quite honestly. And you're very hardly the model father yourself when you are always away and hardly take care of them. I know the work is everything, but they need genuine paternal love more than your science to save them."

He shrugged, nonplussed, and then set his wispy cigarette to the ashtray before leaning his head against yours.

"We are probably horrible people, but I wouldn't have it any another way. To create life with you is more than I could selfishly do alone, for obvious reasons untold."

You laughed again at his dry humor and intertwined your body with his own, wishing you could crawl inside his skin and live in his bone structure. He was absolutely everything to you, even on bad days, and maybe his prestige and stability contributed to that, but there was real love underneath his flaws.

"Whatever you face, I'll be here to try to mitigate it," you whispered seriously and he nodded, appreciative.

"I trust you and I love you, Y/N. It won't get easier for me, for us, and I'm afraid the future may be as horrifying as I imagine it."

"That's why we have sex, to stave off the inevitable for a little while," you told him, tears pushing out and slipping down your cheeks. He caught one with his finger and wiped it clean off, staring at the translucent wet spot at the tip of his fingernail sadly. It wasn't unusual for you to weep after sex, but this felt different.

"Kiss me," he murmured and you leaned forward as he grabbed the back of your head and smooshed in, tongues writhing together for a few seconds before you both pulled away, breathing in the same air together.

"Tonight is good enough for me," he decided and you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes to succumbing exhaustion.

In an uncertain frightening world full of variables, you vowed to be his one constant for life.

Thanks for reading 🖤

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junijwi · 1 year

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#encke #ithika #needed a post with both of themmmm #prometheus initiative

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rintheyordle · 1 year

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"Oh there you are.”

#my art #michiya #kezia #rp #prometheus initiative #oops #kezia got double crit at the very end #they had him to 1 hp #made for some good angst #lmao #rintheyordle #sketch #illustration #art

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

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Run To The Water, Lucifer

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader (more OC, but no specific appearances/names/pronouns are mentioned!)

Fluff, reunion, lore-heavy

Word count: 3826

Tw: mention of injuries, constant lower back pain (because I know I’m not the only one who struggles with this), some a la Prometheus eternal punishment thing. Mutual longing, God is an asshole. I think I swore maybe two times? Again - more OC than reader, but not entirely so idk. Not proofread.

Summary: Before mankind, there were angels and there was you. But unlike the angels, you weren’t created by God’s hands, and he loathed you for it. He used you as an inspiration for humans before trying to get rid of you. Now, years later, your favourite angel is running free again. And he comes to seek you out.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

Oh, desert speak to my heart. Oh, woman of the earth. Maker of children who weep for love. Maker of this birth.”

In the beginning, before mankind and capitalism and whatnot, Earth was a simple run ground for god and his angels. They got to run haywire, create things, destroy things, whatever would ‘inspire’ God, as he had put it. He came to create light, life, death - everything. But through everything he had made and everything he had prided himself on, he had never created you. You came into existence long before the humans, from a source no one truly knew. He could have left you there to rot: something that wasn’t his. It was almost an insult. Yet something about you made him give in, caused him to offer you shelter where his angels would be safe.

And as much as he initially hated you, he saw something in him that his angels didn’t show him: inspiration for his greatest creation yet. He kept you close only leaving you around his four most trusted sons when he was away. It never felt like a prison to you.

It didn’t, until Adam and Eve were created.

As they set their first steps on Earth, you were approached by a group of angels, claiming they were there to ‘escort you out’. You had followed them, had it not been for Lucifer, and his distrust towards his siblings. God had seen your purpose fit - you had become his greatest inspiration, mankind; an improved version of you. Or that is what he had believed. You were not his creation, therefore did not deserve to set foot on his land. And after he had realised his greatest invention, it was time to get rid of ‘that which was left’.

“'Til your deepest secrets are known to me, I will not be moved. I will not be moved.”

Lucifer had helped you hide from his father and siblings, making sure you were safe as they scavenged the Earth. For years, this worked. Humans evolved - though slowly - and Lucifer’s temper had begun to grow significantly worse.

It was after only a handful of decades that you were finally found. In his act of cruelty, God made his favourite son execute his ‘dumbest decision’, still unaware of the fact that it had been Lucifer who had kept you hidden all these years. That is when he snapped. He belittled humans, claiming them to be a cheap copy of you - which had held truth in it - and needy. God forgot his first children just to be able to rule his new playthings.

It was that fateful day that had led to his downfall. He was cast down from Heaven, forced to live upon the place that housed the creatures he hated most. He tried to rule Hell for a while, making sure you had still been safe. Even after centuries of humans coming into existence, angels kept looking for you everywhere. And though the search had significantly faded over time, you knew that if you were to announce your presence, they’d try to get rid of you as quickly as they could.

Many had believed you had died in those years. Though not nearly ageing as quickly as humans, you surely couldn’t be immortal. The opposite was proven when the angels landed their attack on Lucifer. It was when you had finally been captured, that Lucifer’s strength slowly began to face, until he was banished to the cage.

Since then, he hadn’t known what had happened to you, nor where you had been. And in his eyes, that had been a worse punishment than being kept in a cage.

“Don't try to find the answer When there ain't no question here. Brother, let your heart be wounded And give no mercy to your fear.”

God couldn’t kill you - the weakling. Instead, he stripped you off all that made you divine, save for your ageing process. You were forced to stay on Earth and live out the rest of your eternal life without a branch of special on you. You were quick to find out God had kept angels in your street, keeping constant vigilance. If you were to even say the wrong thing, he’d know.

It took a long time for you to adjust to simply living on the streets as everyone did. You had to reinvent yourself a ton of times in order to keep up the facade of being a mortal woman. But after a while, you learned to maintain a normal job, pay bills (as God had so horribly intended), make new friends, watch them grow old and happy, then ‘die’ of a sudden cardiac arrest. And the cruellest of it all, was the fact you couldn’t die, even if you wanted to. God would find a way to bring you back.

An eternal punishment for simply existing.

“Adam and Eve live down the street from me. Babylon is every town. It's as crazy as it's ever been. Love's a stranger all around.”

It was late when you returned home from work. One of the cons of turning more mortal was the constant ache in your lower back, and your incapability to heal it. All you really wanted to do when you came home was fall into your bed and not get out for a long time.

The walk home was silent, but what caught you off-guard was the lack of eyes on you. For the first time in decades, you didn’t have the constant feeling of being watched. And it caused an unsettling shiver to run down your spine. Angels weren’t one to give up on their tasks - not without a significant threat. And if it had taken them out, you weren’t safe to begin with.

With a quicker pace, you walked onto your patio, your keys gripped tightly in your hands in case someone would try to sneak up on you. Unlocking the door, you walked in, immediately locking it behind you. A long sigh escaped you when you heard the satisfactory click.

Kicking your shoes off and hanging your coat over a chair, you waltzed towards the couch, falling down onto it with an obnoxious huff. You turned the tv on, staring at the screen blankly, the words not fully registering.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, something told you you were not alone. And though that usually brought a terrifying chill, this seemed somewhat comfortable.

“In a moment we lost our minds here, And lay our spirit down. Today we lived a thousand years. All we have is now.”

You sat upright, now scanning the room more intently. From the corner of your eye, you could see something move in the kitchen, followed by a light amount of noise. Not turning the tv off, you carefully walked towards the source, turning your head around the corner first.

You didn’t recognise the man in the kitchen. You did, however, recognise the faint glow emanating from him. No human held that glow, not unless their body was being used by someone else.

The scrubbing on the jacket halted, and you now noticed the bloodstains on it. You frowned at the sight, then dropped your shoulders as you noticed the small pile of already red-stained towels. When the man turned around, you came face to face with him, and it suddenly began to click why the room had felt so comfortable.

“Lucifer?”

“Run to the water And find me there. Burnt to the core but not broken.”

“You’re alive,” he breathed, before dropping the towel and walking up to you, pulling you into his figure. You hesitantly returned the embrace, still half in shock of what had just happened. For years, you believed God had killed his son, leaving you alive in terrible mockery, but the opposite was proven now. And in his eyes, he believed you had died as well. He went out on a gut feeling and found exactly what he had been looking for.

When his hands tightened on your back, you finally yielded, vehemently returning the embrace, burying your head in his chest. “You’re alive,” He repeated, one of his hands trailing to your hair, running his hand through it softly, as if frightened that notion would break you.

As you parted, his eyes remained on you, trailing over your figure as if to properly observe you. “You haven’t changed at all,” He muttered, before he took you into his embrace again. “I thought you died,” You managed to whisper, your eyes glued to his wings that had now become apparent.

“The feeling is mutual,” He sighed, keeping you at arm’s length when you heard a car pass by. His eyes trailed to the window, an instant glare building on his face. “We need to get out of here. Don’t worry about the angels,” He spoke in one breath, before looking at you again. “I took care of them.” “I figured,” You nodded, still at loss for words.

“We'll cut through the madness Of these streets below the moon. These streets below the moon.”

Outside, you heard car doors open, followed by heavy footsteps, walking towards your porch. “Lucifer,” A gruff voice cut through the tense silence. On the other side of your kitchen stood another person, one you easily recognised as angel. You furrowed your eyes at him in anger, all too familiar with angels and the way they perceived you. You didn’t miss the slight smile on Lucifer’s face as he looked at the angel.

“Too late, little brother.”

And with that, the two of you had left your home, now suddenly in the middle of a forest. You looked around quickly, your stomach churning as the brief travel ended. Your knees buckled underneath you, your hands extending to break your fall. Nausea settled in you as you tried to regain your breath, remaining hunched over. Lucifer observed you from a distance, his hands in his pockets.

“So,” He began, his voice slightly uncomfortable. “You mortal now?” You looked over your shoulder, sparing him a mocking smile: “Consider it your father’s greatest gift.”

His eyebrows raised the words, silently cursing his father for your punishment. “At least he didn’t kill you.” “Bastard couldn’t do it,” You muttered. “Claimed I reminded him too much of you.” “He’s always so sentimental.” Lucifer agreed.

“And I will never leave you, 'Til we can say, this world was just a dream. We were sleepin', now we are awake 'Til we can say.”

When you remained on the floor, your breathing unsteady, the fallen angel walked towards you. He frowned lightly at the sight of your discomfort. “You okay?” A groan came from you as you tried to sit upright, pain shooting through your lower back. “Just peachy.”

Lucifer’s lips formed in a thin line, observing your figure. “Right,” He spoke sarcastically. Then, he reached down, holding his hands on your shoulder. When he didn’t do anything else, you looked at him confused. The angel seemed conflicted, looking at you as if he was expecting you to say or do anything. When you didn’t say anything, he took a step back: “I can’t heal you.”

You sighed at that. Naturally, God decided to screw you over even more. “Curse that asshole,” You mumbled on your breath, before clumsily rising to your feet again. When you stumbled slightly, Lucifer’s hands found your waist quickly, keeping you in place.

“I’m fine.” You objected, even though your hands were now holding onto his lower arms. “Yeah, no.” He deadpanned, keeping you steady. “How the mighty have fallen.” You looked up through your lashes as he spoke those words.

“Don’t remind me.”

“In a moment we lost our minds here And dreamt the world was round. A million miles fall from grace. Thank God we missed the ground.”

He looked down at you for a short second before the scenery changed again. That same nauseating feeling entered your stomach as you fell down on something soft. You groaned in pain, curling up, almost as if trying to protect yourself. For a second, you forgot you were around Heaven’s most wanted, and simply laid down, taking a moment to regain your posture.

“No, this is amazing.” You objected as you sat up, now seeing you had landed in some kind of fancy five-star hotel room. It was then that you noticed you had fallen onto a huge bed, the blankets shifting underneath you. You looked at Lucifer with questioning eyes, not understanding why you were suddenly somewhere else.

“Humans need rest.” He just spoke, sitting on a chair next to the bed. “I’ll be fine.” You disagreed, preparing to get off the bed. Before you could set a foot on the floor, Lucifer shook his head, grabbing a book from seemingly nowhere.

“No, you won’t,” He sighed. “I’ll just wait here, I guess.”

“Run to the water And find me there. Burnt to the core, but not broken.”

You simply stared at him. Only minutes ago you were still convinced of his death, well-adjusted to a simple mortal life. And without preparation, he had appeared in your kitchen and whisked you away to who knows where.

You blinked twice at the realisation. You thought he was dead for years. And there he sat, directly in front of you. As if nothing had happened. Noting your eyes still on him, Lucifer looked at you from his seat: “What?” “They told me you died,” You breathed. “I thought I would be the only one left at the end of time.”

He lowered his book upon your words, an unsure expression on his face. You began to grow concerned you might have said the wrong thing. Who knew what he had been through all those years? It mustn't have been easy for him either. “Thought I’d be locked in a cage forever,” He ultimately spoke, halting your concerns. “Had to go through daily torment of mentioning my fall and your death to me.”

Though he spoke in a sarcastic tone, you knew his words were genuine. And as him, you did your best to lighten the situation. You could feel the conflict and pain radiating off of him, but you weren’t going to mention it to him. Not now. Instead, you spoke: “Guess our deaths were a little exaggerated.”

“We'll cut through the madness Of these streets below the moon. With a nuclear fire of love in our hearts.”

“Well, at least there’s still one good thing in this world.” He shrugged, and you couldn’t help but smile at his words, a heartfelt expression crossing your features. At your face, Lucifer slowly shook his, holding his hands up: “No. Forget I said anything,” Pointing towards your smiling figure, he gave you an accusing look. “That was a moment of weakness.”

You didn’t tease him about it. Perhaps later you would mention it again. For now, you just enjoyed his presence, his stupid remarks something you had missed for a very long time. When your smile finally faded, Lucifer just looked at you, his expression relatively neutral, even though you could feel the fondness in his gaze. Be that as it may, the words he spoke weren’t fond in any way. If anything, they had caught you off-guard.

“I’m gonna burn this place down. Restart the world in my image.” Ah yes, the infamous Apocalypse. Of course, you couldn’t forget about that. It was foretold. If anything, you had an idea the angels were planning something for a while now. They had begun to grow more secretive and silent over the last few months. You first thought they had started losing interest in you, but that had not been the case. They were simply preparing for a rematch with Lucifer.

You couldn’t help but understand his views, especially considering what the both of you had gone through in your history. Though your views hadn’t always been the same, you wanted to be at his side. It was the safest you had ever been, nor would ever be.

“Yeah, I can see it now, Lord Out beyond all the breakin' of waves And the tribulation.”

“What would that be?” You asked, to which Lucifer nonchalantly shrugged. “Less humans, more lightsabers.” Though he seemed fond of that idea, you didn’t laugh at it. “Maybe I’ll just wipe this world off the map. We could run to a remote planet.”

You couldn’t help but remain silent at his words, just staring at him, not sure what to do or say. And he had noticed, an oblivious ‘what’ coming out of his mouth. You blinked twice, forcing yourself back to reality. “I’ve spent lifetimes here now,” You answered, your voice much more gentle than you had intended. “I don’t know, there’s good things here too.”

He raised his eyebrows at your statement, testing your words. “Like what?” You shrugged. “I really like dogs.” “We can keep the dogs.” He quickly added, but so did you: “Music is pleasant.” “I’ll find a way.” He continued, to which you groaned in objection.

“Lucifer, humans aren’t evil.” “They’re a faulty copy of you!” He returned angrily. Not at you, but at his father. For daring to mock you in such a brutal way. For the way he wanted to get rid of you once he copied you to make his own creation. “A cheap replication.” He continued to rant. “I don’t want cheap replications when I can have the real thing.”

“It's a place and the home of ascended souls Who swam out there in love.”

“Thank you,” You whispered, unsure of what to answer, but you knew compliments were hard to come by from him. Even though that was true, you couldn’t help but already feel remorseful for losing the life you had known so well for the last few years. Sure, it had been torture for you, but all good moments came from humanity.

“I know the apocalypse is inevitable,” You tried to persuade, laying back down onto the bed. “But think it over.” With that, you turned around, facing your back to him.

“Think it over?” Lucifer repeated incredulously. “Humans are terrible! Have you not caught up with history of the last few years?” “I’ve lived it.” You called over your shoulder, not mad at him. In fact, you had grown kind of disappointed and sad upon the thought of humanity fading from existence. You knew Lucifer could actually do it if he really put the effort into it. “Humans aren’t inherently evil,” You went on. “If I remember correctly, it were the angels who wanted to kill everything.”

He was silent for a moment. Longer than you were used from him. You started to wonder if he might have left. Surely, he wouldn’t have done that.

“Run to the water And find me there. Burnt to the core, but not broken.”

“And that’s why they’ll go too.” He suddenly spoke, now laying next to you on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You let out of quiet sigh of relief upon his figure, scooting closer to him, but not enough to touch him just yet.

“And live in a world with just the two of us?” You tested. “Wouldn’t that grow…tedious?” You trailed off slightly, knowing you could speak your mind in front of the devil without risking him smiting you. Yet, it felt as if you were cursing him whilst he was directly in front of you.

“Tedious?” He echoed, chuckling as his head turned to face yours, silently assuring you he wasn’t insulted at all. In fact, it had entertained him slightly. You returned his smile, a light feeling entering your stomach upon finally seeing his joy again.

You remained laying there for a second, bathing in the glee of simply having you with him. The feeling seemed mutual, as you watched one of his wings wrap around your figure, pulling you against his body whilst his wing remained draped over you. His arm pulled you into his side, his hand coming to a rest on your side.

His touch was cold, though welcomed. You figured hell must have done a number on him - he had never been cold to touch before.

“We'll cut through the madness Of these streets below the moon. With a nuclear fire of love in our hearts.”

“Well,” He started, thinking out loud. “I could take over Heaven. Rule the string puppets from up there.” You placed your hand on his chest in agreement, a smile crossing your features as you pictured the demise of the angels who have taunted you and haunted you for centuries: “I am all for taking Heaven over.”

The angel chuckled at your comment, rubbing your skin in repeating patterns. “I know you are.”

Then, a second silence struck the pair of you, this one more comfortable, void of any tension of disagreement. The breathing of his chest was a soothing notion for you, all nausea from earlier now finally fading away. The ache in your lower back seemed to calm down slightly on the soft mattress. You silently wondered if Lucifer had felt it when he tried to heal you and got you something that would help with it.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He sighed, slight melancholy in the tone of his voice. “No one else will pay attention to me.” “You egocentric bastard,” You joked, getting comfortable in his arms.

“I missed you too, Lucifer.”

“Rest easy baby, rest easy. And recognize it all as light and rainbows, Smashed to smithereens and be happy.”

Perhaps it had been due to the adrenaline wearing off, you finally being in his arms again, or the fact that you simply had a very tiring day, but your eyelids grew heavier with every breath you took. Falling asleep in your earlier surroundings had always been difficult for you: angels were watching your every move. It was hard to feel safe under the gaze of those who swore to kill you not too long ago.

However, for the first time in a very long time, you finally felt safe. The familiar feeling of his heavy wing draped around you and his looming presence seemed to bring some special sense of comfort that you had longed for for so long.

And thus, Lucifer would spend the rest of the night in his new vessel, staring up at the ceiling for hours on end, not moving, just for you to get a healthy amount of sleep. Talking could happen later, and he had all the time in the world. His siblings wouldn’t find him. Not if he didn’t want to be found. And now, he wanted nothing more than to simply be forgotten by them and remain there.

Right there at that exact moment, he felt peace - something that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and wouldn’t feel again not much later.

“Run to the water. Run to the water.”

#November writings 2023 #spn #supernatural #lucifer #spn lucifer #lucifer spn #lucifer x reader #spn lucifer x reader

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infernogalore · 1 year

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#oc: ridley #oc: royce #verse: prometheus initiative #infernogaloreart #ocs

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blackbird5154 · 7 months

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Papa Emeritus III: The analysis of mythological references

Here are my thoughts of Terzo as a character, finally translated to English. Thank you to @osirisiii-bc who is so kind and gracious!

Read on AO3

Note: The author strongly recommends you to check out the Third Era's "policy document" - The Prologue and Introduction by Peter Bebergal before reading this article. This promotional material was sent out to the media by the label on the occasion of the Meliora release.

This analysis is based on the Prologue to Meliora written by Peter Bebergal. At first glance, this text may seem like a set of nonconnected paragraphs, as well as the music video "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" can be considered as a simple cutting of scenes from old movies. But together these two materials can shed light on the mythology of the Meliora Era and the story of Papa Emeritus III - his origin, background and motives. Let's try to understand how it happened that in the image of Papa combined three mythological characters: Prometheus, Icarus and Lucifer.

This is what the author of this analysis looked like when she wrote it

First, let's take a superficial look at the plot. The action of the video takes place in a fictional retrofuturistic city decorated in Art Deco style. The Prologue even gives us the name of this location - Meloria (not to be confused with the album title - Meliora). The city is ruled by a totalitarian cult, something like a Masonic lodge, located in the highest building of the city, which is often struck by lightning.

The protagonist is invited to take part in a cult meeting and to undergo initiation. There he meets a sultry demonic woman who gives him a magic potion (the commentary to the song "Spirit" hints that it was absinthe). The protagonist experiences a vision in which he sees how the city is actually run. Upon awakening from his trance, he escapes from the meeting and throws himself off the roof of a skyscraper. Crashing to the ground, he is reborn into the ghost of Papa Emeritus III, to whom a crowd of people flock. Papa proclaims that the light should belong to the people and rises above the city. By the way, this character has a special name, or rather, a nickname given to him by the press - Mysterious Spectre. This can be read from the page of the newspaper that Papa holds in another clip thematically related to this storyline, "Square Hammer". The headline states: "Mysterious Spectre wrestles power supply from oligarchs". Papa Emeritus in full vestments can be seen in the photo.

Now, let's dig a level deeper. From the very beginning, the video gives us a hint of the concept behind it. The words "pinnacle" and "pit" appear in the splash screen, inscribed in two triangles. The upper word is written in the style of lightning bolts, while the lower one reminds us of stone catacombs. Besides the fact that it is a Masonic symbol (and not the only one in this video, and in Ghost's art in general), it symbolizes the contrast of the heavenly and underground worlds, sacred and profane spheres.

That's what the Prologue says as well:

“Rock and roll exists in two worlds: the sacred and the profane. In the first, it harkens back to a time when people worshipped their gods by wearing masks, dancing, and often in the throes of ecstatic intoxication. In the second, rock exists in the here and now, as an expression of rebellion, sex, power, and even fame. In the realm of the sacred, the ego is destroyed when the god is seen face to face. In the profane, ego is the energy that gets things done. This is the eternal spiritual conflict: the will of the gods versus human will. Those who can keep a foot in both the sacred and the profane can change the world.“

Freemasons are everywhere!

Considering Meliora, we are inevitably faced with its duality: on the one hand, it’s a down-to-earth story about a satanic musical group controlled by the Clergy. On the other hand it’s a legend of the city of Meloria, a kind of Gotham of this fictional universe. Even Papa seems to have two incarnations: a physical and a spiritual one. But the two worlds are not only the dichotomy of matter and spirit. The video shows two levels of the metropolis: the celestial - the world of thunder and lightning, power and electricity, and the subterranean - the world of the poor and the catacombs, the underground temples "under the streets". The society of Meloria is stratified, the upper classes exist at the expense of the lower classes, who bust their hump, generating electricity for their masters and covering the foot of skyscrapers with their bones. The totalitarian regime described in the pages of the Prologue is the oligarchy's way of keeping power in its hands and suppressing any expression of free will from the enslaved people.

“Spies are everywhere. Their eyes are behind the screens of your televisions and devices, their ears attentive to every frequency in the air. Everything is mediated, pre-packaged, and pressure sealed, your lives pre-ordained.”

The watchful airships in the video are labeled grucifixes, but don't let that put us off: they are "angels," agents of the ruling class, an enemy force opposed to Papa Emeritus.

"What if man could harness the power of a god?" the Headmaster asks the protagonist. "In a sense, he would need god no longer." It may be recalled here that Meliora is essentially an album about a world without God. That's exactly how the Nameless Ghoul put it in an interview, which is cited in Revolver magazine. “Spirit Absent” ("spirit absinthe") is “Deus in Absentia”, absent God. It is a world in which man is doomed to choose his own path without prompting from above. Modern man, the man of the era of modernism, seeks to curb the laws of physics, to put heavenly fire at his service. We are getting very close to the image of Prometheus in this story.

“You have been chosen to wield this power,” the Headmaster tells the boy. “Here we are the gods.” Then he sends the protagonist to the top of the building on what looks like an elevator, which symbolizes his ascent through the lodge ranks.

The woman reveals to the protagonist that the deity called demi-surge is the source of the power that moves the gears of the city. And the same power is used to enslave its people. It is their backs that we see bowed before Moloch. The vision is replaced by the sight of a lavish ball. “Through industry, man can harness this power and attain all that which he desires!” - the woman tells and invites the character to join.

This situation is also described in the Prologue:

"The world since he was last seen has changed. Called Moloch by some, the great industrial machine has been grinding away, grinding everything and everyone down in the process."

Historically, Moloch was an ancient Semitic deity to whom human sacrifices had to be made. In the 1927 film "Metropolis" Moloch is represented by an industrial machine with an insatiable maw that devours people who labor in its bowels. And since the music video shows us the 20s of the 20th century, this machine operates on electric power. So, in this story Moloch symbolizes the dark side of progress turned against people.

Moloch in the “Metropolis” movie

The protagonist realizes that the lodge is using ordinary people as fuel for its luxurious life. He is not ready to accept this, so he pushes the woman away and, scattering, jumps from the roof of the skyscraper, from the pinnacle to the pit. There's an important element not to miss here: while he's climbing to the top of the tower before jumping, he's struck by lightning. In that moment he perhaps becomes heir to the mystical power of the demi-surge. By this Papa gains the dramatic ability to shoot lightning from his hands (and a little from his eyes).

As a man of the modern era and a resident of godless Meloria, the protagonist is free to choose how to dispose of this power. Therefore, when he becomes Papa Emeritus, already at the base of the skyscraper, he proclaims that the light should belong to the people. Like Prometheus, who stole the divine fire, he is ready to give it selflessly to the people, so that they can curb the natural force themselves. This similarity must be what the following the Prologue fragment hints at:

“…some still remember the old tales of those who tried to defy the gods. It was said they stole the fire from heaven, or called themselves equal.”

The people who rally around the sacrificed hero become Papa's flock, which is mentioned in the text:

“He is a shepherd of black sheep, the sewers are his cathedral. Here in the darkness they follow the path of the hero’s journey, the necessary travel to the underworld to become transfigured, to become something new.”

The Hero's Journey is a concept invented by Joseph Campbell to describe a monomyth. This archetypal story depicts the way of personality formation, accompanied by psychological transformation. According to the plot, the hero goes on a journey, meets a mentor, passes through a gateway where temptations await, which he must resist. Then he goes to the abyss, where he undergoes a transformation, along with acquiring the gift of the gods, and eventually returns reborn.

Doesn't that ring a bell?

Probably "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" is also a statement about art. Electricity can be perceived as a metaphor for creativity. It is a bit of heavenly power, which the creator (musician) draws from somewhere in the higher spheres and gives to his audience for free. Here Tobias himself appears as a giver of light.

The story of Mysterious Spectre will be continued in the "Square Hammer" video, where we are told that he successfully wages war with local oligarchs, wresting power from them. Let's wish him luck and pay attention to the similarity of Papa's story to two other mythological characters.

Mysterious Spectre in the background of the moon. Handsome as hell.

The cover of the single "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" shows us Papa as Icarus. Let us recall that this ancient Greek young man daringly ascended to the sun, scorched his wings with its heat and fell from heaven to earth, losing too many feathers attached with the easily melting wax. Here we can exclaim after the prophet Isaiah: "How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn!" Because the image of Icarus in this song is combined with the image of Lucifer. In Wikipedia we can read: "Lucifer is the Latin name for the morning appearances of the planet Venus. It corresponds to the Greek names Phosphorus Φωσφόρος, "light-bringer", and Eosphorus Ἑωσφόρος, "dawn-bringer". The entity's Latin name was subsequently absorbed into Christianity as a name for the devil."

Or maybe he didn't fall, but jumped, as the Prologue directly tells us. A man of the modern era is free to choose his own destiny. And it is up to him to decide whether he will be thrown down from heaven or will take a step into the precipice himself, without waiting for a kick from above. Because there is no other way than "from the pinnacle to the pit". Such is the Hero's Journey.

“One figure was considered so prideful he was imprisoned in a pit where he gathered a legion to plan a great rebellion. Now they are merely stories to scare children, to remind them that defiance is a sin. Papa Emeritus III will steal your breath, the parents say. He will unscrew your hands and feet. He will take your eyes.”

Here the image of Papa is so merged with the image of Lucifer that it is difficult to understand who the text is talking about. It seems that the figure of Papa has been defamed: now he is a monster of the underworld, who is used to scare children to make them obedient. He was transformed from a light-bearer into an evil character through slander. Once again we are faced with an almost direct analogy with the Devil. By the way, isn't that why Papa addresses Cirice with the words "I know your soul is not tainted even though you've been told so" that he himself has been stigmatized, presented as a villain? Isn't this the essence of the fall and the punishment?

However Papa Emeritus appears to us: whether he is a rebel, a Melorian revolutionary who made the oligarchs tremble in their skyscrapers, a hero of the common people who brings the light of electricity and freedom to the populace, a fallen angel banished from heaven for his defiant thoughts, or a chthonic demon to scare children, he is a figure who appeals to our unconscious layers through mythological archetypes. Only one question remains: are you, dear reader, ready to follow Papa Emeritus into the abyss, taking the path of rebirth, feeling the halo above your head melting and being replaced by a mitre with an inverted cross?

#papa emeritus iii #terzo #the band ghost #ghost #papa emeritus #papa emeritus 3 #papa emeritus lll #ghost band #ghost bc #meliora #meloria #ghost lore #ghost theory #papa terzo #papa iii #terzo emeritus #tobias forge #mysterious spectre

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