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larluce · 4 months

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Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)

#merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merlin fanfic #merthur fic #merlin prompt #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur prompt #merthur fic rec #merthur fanfic #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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nanaminsmoon · 9 months

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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭

pt.2

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),

wc: 3380

“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.

“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.

“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.

“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.

because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.

“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.

“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.

“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.

“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.

“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,

“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.

no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.

”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.

“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.

“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.

"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.

"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.

"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.

a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.

”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.

prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,

”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.

”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.

”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,

”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.

the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.

”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.

“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.

”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.

”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.

the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,

”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.

the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.

the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,

”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,

”please~”, his decision would be made for him.

as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,

”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie smut #aot connie #Spotify

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

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dyns33 · 1 year

Text

The debt

Little Morpheus x Reader for a sweet week end

Y/N didn't want to see Mopheus again.

Not at all.

She wished him no harm of course, she even wanted him to find balance, serenity, and happiness, but there were still a lot of things she couldn't forgive.

Their break-up had been difficult. Maybe he had warned her, before they even started dating.

"My love stories always end badly."

Y/N had laughed. She brushed that sentence aside, convinced that it would be different between them, that she was the one who was going to change him, and that they were going to stay together forever.

And they had been together long enough. Several years. They had been very happy. Morpheus had even asked his father not to pass for her anymore, so that his dear sister would never come to take her from him, and since he never asked for anything, Time had accepted.

She wasn't the first mortal to defy the laws of nature, so it didn't really matter much.

But even though time had stopped for her body, their hearts were still racing, and one day they had started to argue.

A bit, then a lot, more and more often, more and more violently.

He had never hit her, but the words could be as hurtful as the blows.

Y/N had made the decision to leave him. It didn't seem to surprise him. This had offended him a little. Maybe also saddened him, in any case she wanted to hope so. He hadn't fought for her to stay. It was the end of all his previous love affairs after all.

The difference was that there was no punishment. No ban. Morpheus didn't prevent her from dreaming, as he didn't ask his father to take back the gift he had given her.

It had been over a year now, and Y/N was trying to move on. Not necessarily to forget him, he would always haunt her nights, and there were some good memories, but she had to learn to live without him, and forever.

So she didn't want to see him anymore, but she continued to appreciate the inhabitants of the Dreaming. It was for this reason that she suddenly stopped near an alley, while it was raining, taking a few steps back to check that she hadn't been mistaken.

Hiding behind a trash can was a raven, visibly injured, which was painful to see.

"Matthew ?" she asked softly as she approached.

"... Hi Y/N."

"What happened ?"

"A tiny little accident, nothing dramatic. I'm resting a bit before flying off to go back to... Well, to leave."

"You can talk about the Dreaming, I don't mind. It sounds serious enough. Isn't Morpheus coming to get you ?"

"No !" cried the raven, fidgeting nervously. "I mean, the boss doesn't know, and he doesn't have to know ! He's going to panic, and be angry, and sad, and disappointed, saying that I'm not paying enough attention, and that I can't go into the waking world alone anymore, and that it's his fault because he wasn't there to protect me, and he's going to take a new raven which will be better than me and..."

"Matthew. Calm down."

"... I don't want him to replace me. I don't want him to worry either. I know he suffered a lot after the death of Jessamy. But it's true that I can't really fly right now, and I'm stuck here."

Y/N sighed. It probably wasn't a good idea, because Matthew was a dream, and Morpheus was very protective of his dreams, very possessive, but she couldn't leave the little bird, and he knew her, so there was no reason for this situation to take a bad turn.

Without saying a word, not listening to the cries of the raven, she took him with her, to her house, where she settled him on a cushion, taking care of his wing and giving him something to regain his strength.

"You can stay here as long as you need, and when you're better you can go back to Dream."

"Thank you ! That's so nice ! I knew you were nice, I don't understand why you and the boss broke up."

"It was not working anymore."

"Because he's not good with people, he knows it, and instead of making an effort, he sulks, imagines the worst, and ruins everything ? Classic. He does that all the time. It has rained for months after you left, he was inconsolable."

Guessing she wasn't supposed to know that, Y/N said nothing, pretending she hadn't heard anything, and taking care of Matthew until he was fit to fly away.

Quite honestly, she thought this story was going to end there. She had helped an old friend, nothing more.

But when she had just fallen asleep, she was surprised to find herself in the throne room she knew so well. Morpheus was there, staring coldly at her. He hadn't changed, and Y/N tried not to think he was still very handsome.

"Matthew told me that you assisted him during one of his trips to the waking world."

"Yes, although I thought he didn't want you to know that."

"He can't hide anything from me. He's a part of me, and I immediately knew he was in distress. But I saw you were with him and helping him, so I didn't interfere."

"Good. Why am I here then ?" she asked, suddenly feeling hope deep in her heart, thinking he was going to talk about that rain, tell her he missed her, and ask her to come back.

"I am in your debt.. As Endless, I must pay it. Ask me what you want, so that we are even."

The request fell on her like a sledgehammer. For a second she almost smiled, then laughed, waiting for him to laugh with her, because it could only be a joke.

"I didn't do this for a favour. I don't want anything, thank you."

"You do not understand." he growled as he rose from his throne, huge and menacing. "I have to pay my debt."

"Morpheus, I don't want anything. Consider us even right now, I don't want to ask you anything."

"You have to, that's the rule."

So that was the only reason he had brought her here. The rules, the responsibilities. Again This upset her pretty much. Morpheus certainly didn't think she had helped Matthew get anything out of him, but that was how she felt. He wasn't offering her a present as a thank you, but because he had no choice.

"No."

"You dare."

"I won't ask you anything."

"But you could. You can ask me for anything you want and I'll give it to you.."

Indeed, as she could have made him a totally ridiculous request, like a book, or sweet dreams, or that he just say "thank you" by getting down on his knees, but Y/N was as stubborn as he was, and she refused to change her mind.

Morpheus didn't back down either. He continued to torment her for several nights, before visiting her during the day, ordering her to release him from his debt.

As always, he was selfish, annoying, insistent, but not violent. He didn't touch her once, and he didn't actually scream, like she knew he was capable of. He seemed genuinely desperate about this situation, and Y/N ended up not knowing what to do.

She didn't want him to think she had helped Matthew to get something, and she could have asked for something ridiculous, and at the same time she could be asking for something huge, like getting a second chance. She was secretly happy to see him again, so often.

Because even if everything hadn't been perfect, she sometimes missed him. She missed what they had had.

Instead, as he continued to harass her, even preventing her from sleeping, Y/N lost her composure, being tired and lost.

"You want a wish ? Fine. I never want to see you again. Never again !"

Morpheus suddenly seemed shocked. Hurt. He studied her for a long time, as if he wanted to say something, before shaking his head and disappearing in a whirlwind of sand.

The wish was immediately regretted, but Y/N tried to call him, hoping he would come back to cancel her request, but he didn't show up.

Luckily for her, the wish was vague. She hadn't said a word about the Dreaming, or its inhabitants, and after several days she finally found Matthew, presumably on a mission in the waking world, standing on a bench.

"Hello Matthew." she whispered as she sat down next to him.

"Yeah. Hi."

"Everything is fine ?"

"Depends. The boss has been crying since he got back from your place. He refuses to say what happened. I know you were both responsible last time, but I don't like seeing him like this. He's my friend, I don't want you to hurt him."

"I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I said something stupid, and I'd like to undo all of this, but I don't know if it's possible."

She explained to him what had happened, and the little raven sighed, realizing that they had acted like fools again. However, he sadly told her that there was nothing he could do, because now that she had made her request, he had to respect it.

"Even if I ask ? I really want to rescind that wish."

"Sorry, kid. It doesn't work that way."

"But... I'll never see him again." Y/N sobbed, putting her hands on her heart. She hadn't wanted to see Morpheus again, but she hadn't thought she would never see him again.

Matthew sighed again, shook his little head, before letting out a caw. Without saying a word, he abruptly flew away, leaving her alone on the bench, where she wept softly, thinking he had abandoned her.

Then he came back, hopping on one leg.

"I had a problem." he declared.

"What do you mean? You... Your leg is broken ?! Matthew ! How did you do that ?!"

"A bike."

"You're totally oblivious. Maybe Dream is right in not wanting to let you walk around on your own. Come on."

Once in her apartment, Y/N did exactly like the last time, taking care of the crow, putting a bandage on his tiny leg, before freezing.

"... You didn't hurt yourself on purpose to make Morpheus owe me another debt, did you ?"

"... Maybe ?"

"Matthew. That's a really bad idea."

"Indeed."

The voice startled her, but she was still happy to see Dream, who was standing awkwardly by the door.

Y/N slowly turned to him, afraid that he would disappear as quickly as he had come the instant her eyes landed on him. He looked as desperate as Matthew had said, scared, which wasn't normal for an Endless.

"You… You're not going to get in trouble ? By being in the same room as me, despite my wish ?"

"I could." he replied. "But I have another debt to you again, which I must honour so, exceptionally, here I am."

"I see. It's... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask that. I was sick of your constant asking, I wanted you to understand that I didn't do this for favours, and I refused to abuse your powers."

"I know. I'm sorry I was so insistent. I never thought you helped Matthew for any reason other than your kindness. But there are rules, I have to offer you something. I... I was hoping you would ask me..."

"Yes ?"

"I didn't think you would ask that."

"And I want to rescind that wish, right now. It doesn't count anymore. I don't want to never see you again. Of course, if you don't want to come back, I'll understand, but if you... You would be welcome."

"That's it. That's what I wanted to hear." he whispered, moving closer to rest his forehead against hers.

Despite himself, Matthew let out a caw of joy, ruining the moment a bit, but it made the two former lovers smile. Taking his emissary in his arms, Dream thanked her for having helped him again, even if the circumstances were special this time.

Visibly embarrassed, he offered her to come and visit him in the Dreaming, if she wanted to. Y/N said she would think about it, adding that he could also come for tea when he had some free time.

They parted ways, knowing they were foolish enough to never see each other again, and knowing they wouldn't last long before they visited each other. Because even if she had told herself for a long time that she didn't want to see him again, Y/N knew deep down that it was wrong, that she wanted as much as needed to be with Morpheus, stupid, imperfect, beloved Morpheus, who had never had love affairs with the same person twice.

So maybe the second time would be the right one.

#the sandman #sandman #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader

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oldfashioned-lovergirl · 1 month

Text

my boy only breaks his favourite toys — lewis hamilton x nico rosberg (full work)

chapter 1 - found

cw: angst at maximum level, some fluff, some smut

summary: lewis and nico let out their feelings after years of silence. chapter set in 2024z

They smiled at each other that day.

Maybe because Nico rejoiced when Lewis took P2, or maybe because he couldn’t stop talking about him during the commentary, but Lewis smiled at him when their eyes met in the paddock. Nico thought he had never seen a cutest thing in the world. He smiled back.

That smile made him happy for some time.

And then, some days later, coming back after work, he was looking at him rushing to get into the building elevator he was in. Nico held the door open, and Lewis seemed to realize just now who he was going to share the ride with.

“Hi.” The Brit said.

He was wearing a purple sweatshirt, sunglasses, earphones in his ears and untied braids that made his hair look longer. He was breathtaking, as always.

He managed to say hi back to him, watching him step into the lift. Lewis pressed his floor button.

There it was. That awkward silence none of them got used to. It obviously already happened, since they lived in the same building. The formal greeting left room to minutes of painful uneasiness. At least by his side, since Lewis was always so concentrated on his music. That day he took the earphones off.

“Nice race.”

Lewis turned to face him. He definitely wasn’t expecting him to begin a conversation. “Thanks.”

It was difficult to read his expression with the sunglasses on. Nico hated it. He didn’t have them when he smiled at him days before.

“I was rooting for you.”

The sentence seemed to stun Lewis even more if it was possible.

“I saw that.” His eyes were fixed on the door, serious, but his hand holding his arm in a self reassuring gesture betrayed him. “You never did.”

Nico wasn’t sure if he meant he never did that back in the days or in recent times. Still, it almost tore his heart apart. “That’s not true.”

Fortunately or not, the elevator reached Lewis’ floor. The man stepped outside without hesitation. “Have a good day.” He said, in something that could have been both a sarcastic tone and a sincere wish.

The doors closed.

That was the closest encounter they had in years, besides the interviews and the formalities. And the Christmas presents for his daughters Lewis’ never forgot.

Whenever Nico happened to see him in the paddock or interview him, it ended with him thinking about Lewis non stop for the following days. About how good he looked, about his voice and his hands and his beautiful big brown eyes. Seeing him with a different girl every month made jealousy stuck in his throat and made him wish he was the one walking around holding his hand. At least he wasn’t in a long-lasting relationship. It was so selfish of him to be glad about that. Then with time passing the feeling always slowly disappeared, and he came back to his family life with Vivian, forgetting about his voice and his hands and his eyes. Though trying not to say his name during sex was still hard.

That time wasn’t different, if not it was worse. The words they exchanged in the elevator tormented his mind for days. Lewis again hadn’t seem happy to see him, but Nico was sure he didn’t imagine that smile at the race. It was real.

And so there he was, a week later, right in front of Lewis’ apartment door, after sleepless nights and changing his mind God knows how many times. He was an F1 driver, but nothing scared him in his life as much as being there in that moment. It took all the courage he had in himself. The fear was of loosing his best friend. The fear was of loosing the love of his life. And maybe it was too late, but he had to try. He had to try one last time, to be sure nothing could be repaired. He would regret it forever else way.

He knocked.

No answer. He knocked again. Part of him wished he wasn’t home.

He was about to leave and turn back to his own apartment when he heard the door unlocking.

Suddenly, seeing Lewis standing there in front of him, in white t-shirt and home shorts, looking at him so confused, Nico instantly wanted to excuse himself and run away.

“Nico?”

He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he put them in the jacket’s pockets.

“What do you want?” His tone wasn’t aggressive. It was emotionless, and that hurt.

“I need to talk to you.” Nico didn’t even know where he had found the strength to speak.

“Are you okay?”

Nico avoided the question. “I just want to talk.”

“Is it work related?”

“No it’s not.”

A pause followed. Nico wanted superpowers just to know what Lewis was thinking. He was ready to see the door slammed in his face, but instead, to his surprise, he saw Lewis move aside to let him in.

The house was very different from the last time he had seen it. Minimal forniture, dark colours, warm lights. “Nice place.”

A wagging Roscoe looking for snuggles run to his feet. Nico lowered to pet him. Roscoe leaned to the contact. He recognized him. That put a little smile on Nico’s face, and on Lewis’ too.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Maybe some water, thank you.”

Lewis proceeded to bring it to him. It was so weird seeing him in such a domestic contest. It was nostalgic. Their fingers brushed against each others when Nico took the glass in his hand.

He took a sip and then placed it on the kitchen countertop.

Lewis was impatiently waiting for him to speak. “So?”

Nico regained courage. “I know it’s late, I know it’s been years, but I needed to tell you some things about us.”

Lewis sighed. “Nico, I don’t really want to–“

“Listen, I wanted to say sorry for what happened between us. I didn’t mean all the things I said to you. I was an asshole. I know I can’t make up for it, but you have to believe me, I truly am sorry. And I’ll forever miss what we had.”

Nico was sinking his nails in his palms so hard it was hurting. His gaze stood on the side, not able to look at the man. But when he did, Lewis’ expression wasn’t apathetic anymore. The unsure frown turned into a genuinely sad look. That was the first time in a long time Nico saw something on his face besides fake formality or his media mask.

“Nico, we were bad for each other, it’s better this way.”

“I don’t feel better.”

“You apologised. I accept it. That’s it.”

“You’re the best thing that happened in my life. You expect me to move on just like that?”

“Nico, it’s been years. You’ve got a wife, a family. There’s no place for me in your life. And even if there was, we hurt each other too much, we can’t go back.”

“Then just say you moved on and I’ll go away.” At this point Nico’s face was wet with tears without him even realizing it. Lewis looked at him with pain in his eyes. “Just say you don’t love me anymore I swear you won’t see me ever again.”

Silence followed again. Nico shook his head, turned his back and walked to the door. He knew it was a mistake.

A hand seized his wrist. “Nico wait.”

Lewis couldn’t resist and surrounded him with his strong arms, letting him rest his face on his shoulder. Nico hugged him back. It was the best feeling he’d ever felt in years. His heartbeat was accelerating and tears were soaking Lewis’ shirt. He caressed his neck and hair and Nico held him closer. “I treated you so badly too and I’m sorry. You know how much I hate seeing you like this.”

Lewis’ hands left his back to wipe the tears off his face. Their foreheads were close. Nico noticed the other’s eyes shifting on his lips. His hands were now back on his hair, then moved down on his jaw and then on his shoulders. Nico shivered at the touch.

Lewis brushed his lips on his. Gently he captured him in a kiss.

Nico’s stomach made a flip, almost hurting. Lewis’ lips were soft and warm. Nico entwined his fingers in his braids when the kissed turned desperate. As soon as their tongues touched, his mind went back way before 2016. Not when their friendship was painful and messed up, but when they were teenagers. When they kissed the first time, the second, the third. Lewis’ tasted like childhood, he tasted like home.

He felt him pulling him closer and closer, their bodies addicted to each other just as their mouths.

Lewis’ lips slowly left his, which caused him to immediately feel emptied. “I will never stop loving you, Nico. That’s why I need to let go of you.”

He touched his cheek one last time and then stepped away.

Nico wiped his own tears off his face with the sleeve of the jacket. He won’t beg for his attention. He got it. It was too late.

“I forgive you Nico, but I can’t do this again.”

#lewis hamilton x nico rosberg #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #formula 1 #f1

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why-what-no · 2 years

Text

And He Is The Sun

Part 2

Pairing: Morpheus x Werewolf!Reader

Warnings: Hell Stuff, Swearing

Summary: Morpheus loves the werewolf guard of Lucifer despite the fact that they don’t get to stay together very much, as she lives in the depths of hell. While she is desperate to leave and live with her lover, the fear of Lucifer is always there. How could she even possibly get out?

Requested by: @milfodyssey

"Do I have to return now?" (Y/N) asked Morpheus, who was holding her gently. There was a plead in her tone. Don't make me leave you.

He sighed, kissing her forehead. Hating this moment. He hated stealing away her hope every time he had to let her leave him. "You're waking up.” He told her regretfully. “I will see you another time."

He wanted to keep her by his side, but he knew that wasn't possible.

She had asked him to put her into an eternal sleep, so she wouldn’t have to go back to hell. But Morpheus knew his own limits. If someone found her sleeping body and killed her in hell, she would be ripped from the dreaming and stuck in hell forever.

And as she faded from his realm, his hands dropped to his sides. Morpheus returned to his duties, hoping she would return soon.

(Y/N) and Morpheus should have never met, should have never fallen in love. She was one of the were-creatures, taken to Hell to act as a guardian of the Underworld. Eventually becoming Lucifer's guard.

But despite her supposed loyalty to the Ruler of Hell, she could still dream. She would enter the Dreaming, reuniting with Morpheus. It was never for long, but it kept her sane in this prison of a Realm.

But her double life wouldn’t last long. Lies are common in Hell, demons thrive on untruths. But there’s nothing you can keep from the Ruler of the Underworld.

No matter how smart you think you are.

"(Y/N), are you paying attention?" Lucifer's smile was cold and empty, their voice poisonously sweet. "I asked you a question."

(Y/N) was flustered, mentally hitting herself for getting distracted. “What? Oh, I’m sorry my Grace. What was the question?"

"I was just wondering if you were going to tell me about your sleeping trips to visit Dream of the Endless? My enemy."

The breath was knocked out of (Y/N) lungs at that question.

Lucifer knew. They knew about her and Morpheus, and was going to pull her apart by the limbs for it. (Y/N) was horrified. "Your Grace..." Desperation was thick in her voice.

"I can destroy you for this betrayal, Pet." Lucifer was smiling, but (Y/N) had been around them long enough that she could tell how they were truly feeling. They were trembling with rage, thinking about all the ways that they could torture the werewolf.

Fear enveloped (Y/N)'s mind, terrified of her ruler.

But...

She couldn't back down. There was no way out but forward now that Lucifer knew. No way to survive unless she acted like a devil herself. "And risk Morpheus's wrath?" She could see the Devil getting even angrier at that. "If I disappear he'll know exactly what happened."

"You..." Lucifer lunged forward, reaching out to grab her by the hair. "You traitorous little bitch." (Y/N) gasped at the sudden movement, knowing there was no one else in the room to keep Lucifer professional.

But Lucifer suddenly stilled, hand wrapped around (Y/N)‘s neck.

The dark smile returned. "And how do you know that Morpheus will do anything? Even if he truly loves you, you really think he cares enough to go to war with hell?" When (Y/N) couldn't reply, they continued. " No, you aren't important and you know it.”

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?"

(Y/N) knew she won as she said that.

Knew that Lucifer wasn't going to take the risk. Even if it was likely Morpheus truly didn't care, there was a chance that he did.

Lucifer took a deep breath. "Get out."

The Devil's tone was quiet and murderous, but slowly growing louder. "If I see or heard of you again, I will ruin everything you have. Get out. GET OUT!" They screamed the final sentence, fist clenched harshly at the werewolf girl scrambling away.

(Y/N) ran until she couldn't any longer, and then she kept running until she were out of Hell.

***

(Y/N) stood on the surface of earth, letting the sun shine down on her face. She got ready to call on Morpheus, excited to see him again. As nice as the sun felt, he was better.

But she also felt a sense of worry.

It was obvious that if Morpheus wanted to, he could send her straight back to help. Back into the grasps of Lucifer. If he didn’t want to deal with the political damage keeping her around would bring, he didn’t need to keep her. But, she knew it was a risk she had to take if she wanted to survive.

"Morpheus?" She called out, only having to wait a few seconds before she could feel her lover's presence.

"(Y/N)?" His voice was music to her ears and she was filled with happiness at the sight of him. "You're here."

She let him pull her towards him, leaning into his embrace. "Lucifer found out. I… I told them that there would be war if I was executed."

The sound of Morpheus's chuckle gave her some relief, but not as much as his words of agreement. "It's true." He murmured. "There would be."

She sighed, collapsing against him. The adrenaline keeping her active was fading as she began to realize that she was safe. He wasn’t going to send her back, he did love her. Lucifer was wrong.

"Did you think I would not have avenged you?"

"I didn't know."

"Well, I would have." He was a little disappointed that (Y/N) didn’t know that. But he would spend the rest of their future showing her that.

Now that she was out of hell, he didn't have to let her go anymore. The most precious thing in his life didn’t belong to someone else anymore.

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #the sandman lucifer #the sandman dream #morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #my fics

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osiris-iii-bc · 5 months

Text

South of Heaven - Part I [IYRIN spin off - Terzo x OC]

Rating: Explicit, nsfw, sex, mental health issues, abuse, religious trauma, lemon, mental instability, mind manipulation, explicit language, biblical imaginary, violent couple fight, blood and injuries, violence, crossover fic.

Pairing: Papa Emeritus III / OC, Cardinal Copia / OC, Papa Emeritus III / Omega (mention), Alpha / OC (mention).

Crossover: Ghost/Metallica.

Summary: A group of rival satanists attacks the Ministry. Iyrin, now a fallen Angel, is struggling with their new demonic condition, and things between them and Papa Emeritus III are not going as they both expected. Terzo’s revenge against the rival satanists during a Metallica concert only makes things worse.

Part I | Part II | Part III

I’m posting because sometimes one just have to go on. I can’t keep changing things and get stuck on the same sentence forever. It is a 3 chapter fic, already written down so 1 chapter per week. And yes, it is a crossover fic starring Metallica in one of the chapters.

The main story, IYRIN, is on Wattpad and AO3.

This spin off chapter, The New Inner Circle, is on Wattpad, AO3 and down here 👇🏻

Part I. The New Inner Circle.

“ The night we met I knew I needed you so, and if I had the chance I'd never let you go… ”

The little plastic horns attached to their headphones' headband followed the rhythm of the music as they lightly moved their heads while walking down the hallway.

The sun had risen only a little before, but they were already awake to witness that spectacle from the window of the Papal’s bedroom. As the Ronettes' song played on, a burnt smell began to tickle their sensitive nose.

They frowned but continued hopping through the almost-empty corridor. Maybe someone nearby was smoking something strong.

“ So won't you say you love me? I'll make you so proud of me, we'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go… ”

They often strolled around the abbey with music in their ears at unusual hours, helping drown out the voices they claimed to hear inside their heads. Sometimes in the heart of the night or at the first light of morning, the only sound through the corridors was their soft voice singing some joyful melody.

The smell of smoke intensified uncomfortably, and while no one seemed to be awake until a few minutes before, they started to notice more people all converging in the same direction.

“ Be my baby now… Whoa-oh-oh-oh … oh.”

Iyrin halted and slowly freed their ears from the large headphones, frowning at the scene before them. In front was the main entrance of the Ministry, and the crowd around the large door couldn’t hide the consequences of what had likely happened during the last hours of the night, when parties were over and everybody was defeated by tiredness or intoxication. They turned at the touch of a hand on their shoulder. It was Terzo, probably still half-asleep when called for the emergency, judging by the way he was still trying to adjust his cassock.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, anxiously.

“I don’t know, I just arrived,” Iyrin shrugged, as shocked as him. “Looks like a fire.”

“Well, a door doesn’t catch fire by itself…” And with that, he walked past them to meet the group of people gathered at the entrance. Iyrin followed soon after, observing the scene, confused like all the others.

The large entrance doors had been destroyed at the bottom half, where the fire had started, leaving the entrance open. The only coverage now came from the surviving wood of the top half and a part of the right side. Luckily, the fire hadn’t spread inside, but it had ruined the marble of the entrance and the closest furniture. As Terzo had said, the door didn’t catch fire by itself. A ghoul handed him a letter and the knife used to pin it on the external wall of the building, probably by the perpetrator of the attack. Terzo read it briefly, nervously jiggling at the content.

“Ah, what’s this? 1991 again? Is Burzum back with his shit?” He shook his head, as if talking to himself.

“What’s written?” Iyrin asked.

Terzo folded the letter, “We’ll discuss it in an emergency meeting. I need Sister Imperator.”

A nun stepped forward, stopping the Papa from walking away. “Papa,” she began, timorously, “they have made a sacrifice.”

Terzo frowned at her words. “A sacrifice…?”

“A cat,” the nun lowered her gaze, “Can’t tell which one, it is… carbonized.”

Iyrin saw his nostrils widen as he took the longest, raging breath before blinking.

“Go look for Bastet,” he ordered whoever was listening, barely turning his head in their direction.

Iyrin widened their eyes at the realization, immediately moving through the corridor with a fast pace, followed by a couple of nuns.

“ Hello Scooby-Doo cocksuckers.

This is the devil speaking to you. The real one, not the one you pretend to worship.

Did you like the surprise?

We’ll be signing Master of Puppets, waiting for you in the pits of hell if you have the balls. We’ll make sure you find us.

Death to the Ghost faggot.

Signed, The New Inner Circle. ”

“Is this a fucking joke?” Secondo rhetorically asked with an amused smirk, clearly not taking that seriously. “Did they really name themselves The New Inner Circle*?”

“I would have much preferred it to be a Christian group... Satanists fighting each other is just ridiculous,” a cardinal commented soon after, slowly shaking his head.

“They quote Metallica, and they don’t even know me and James are close friends,” Terzo considered. The letter was still in his hand after reading it to the attendees of the emergency meeting. “At the very least, they’re just a bunch of bored kids.”

“Let’s find those kids and beat the shit out of them then,” a Ghoul proposed. “Let’s show them what Hell really looks like.”

“That’s an idea,” Terzo agreed.

Iyrin took the floor, trying to inject some logic into the discussion. “Before jumping to conclusions, what was the mention of Master of Puppets? A figure of speech or—”

“A concert,” observed a Ghoul. “Metallica is playing in town in a couple of days. Some of us were already planning to go there.” Then added, “It looks like an invitation.”

“So we know where to find them. They must be local folks.”

“You wouldn’t think of going personally to the gig,” Iyrin said, taking for granted that Terzo would never do such a reckless thing but still scared to know his answer.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Your Unholiness—”

“You can’t go; it’s too dangerous,” Sister Imperator finally spoke, echoing the fallen Angel, who just gave her a long, cold glance. The fact that Iyrin was present to the majority of meetings and councils was a condition the woman struggled to stand, usually making it clear whenever she could.

Terzo just shrugged, as if it was nothing to worry about. “I know the band personally; we’ll have a free pass everywhere in the venue. All I need is a group of Ghouls with me to find those assholes.”

A couple of ghouls leaned forward. “I’m in,” they declared, followed by many others.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. What if it’s a trap?” Iyrin looked at him again. The worry in their tone suggested they were talking to him like Terzo and not Papa anymore, but he just ignored their stare.

“We’ll discuss it later. Let me do my job.”

“Well, you have to do it better then.”

Terzo just sighed, nervous, but ignored them again and the fact that all around them had heard that. He adjusted himself in the chair. “This is the letter they left and the knife they hung it with. Track down what you need to find them. We are going to the concert.” He stated, leaning the letter and the knife on the table, towards the ghouls. “If anyone has something against it, can just stay here waiting for further instructions when I’ll be back.” He finished the sentence turning directly to Iyrin, speaking more to them than to the rest of the attendees.

That said, he declared the meeting concluded, with no other opposition.

Terzo remained seated at the table as Iyrin attempted to approach him, waiting patiently for most people to leave the room. They had been careful to avoid explicit interactions or displays of affection in public, mindful of potential gossip within the Clergy.

However, any intention of conversation vanished when Terzo spoke up.

“How many times did I tell you not to fucking call me out in public?” His words weren't a question requiring an answer, and he didn't even turn to face them.

“Alright,” the Grigori sighed, rolling their eyes, then moved away from his irritated Unholiness.

Things were far from easy. Since Iyrin's conversion, their relationship had been a constant roller coaster of beautiful ups and unbearable downs.

Very few people had heard Terzo raise his voice in anger off the stage. In his youth and during uncontrolled possession episodes, if the rage he displayed was once silent—manifesting as a raspy, low voice resembling more of an evil growl than a scream—assisting Iyrin's torments revealed how loud he could become when pushed to his limit, and sometimes beyond.

Their fights had been frequent, desperate, and sometimes violent. Doors slammed so hard that they made walls tremble, and objects were thrown on walls and the floor, especially by Iyrin. Unable to channel the chaos of the forces battling inside them, Iyrin couldn't recognize the hate and anger feelings, unknown to them before that moment, that clumsily tried to pour out on the person they were connected with the strongest feelings.

Needless to say, Sister Imperator wasn’t happy with the situation, to put it euphemistically. She despised Iyrin and their influence on Terzo, either positive or negative, always looking skeptical towards them, never directly talking to the fallen Angel, and trying to change Terzo’s mind about them at any given occasion. Some feared it was just a matter of time before they could see Iyrin walk down the Abbey corridors in papal facial paint. More than once, members of the Clergy had expressed their fear to Sister Imperator that Terzo could choose the fallen Angel as his successor, given how highly he seemed to regard that creature, despite the frequent fights.

Very few members of the Clergy considered it a safe situation. Their baptism ritual hadn’t been enough to convince the Clergy of the true intentions of the Angel. Nobody had ever dealt with one before, and the private meetings that excluded Terzo had multiplied since Iyrin was introduced to the Ministry. However, Terzo wasn’t one eager to follow advice and common sense.

But their attitude wasn’t the only change the conversion had brought.

Vanity, not one of their characteristics until they embraced the influence of their former chief, Azazel, was now occasionally reflected in the thick kajal lines they sometimes wore around their eyes, new ways of styling their hair and a growing interest for luxury clothing and accessories. Terzo had also found a new stress reliever in painting their nails black.

Although lust was one of the aspects that mostly had surfaced by their conversion, Iyrin was rarely seen at orgies and parties, and never in black masses. They hadn’t completely rejected their heavenly past as a creature of God, even though, for obvious reasons, they couldn’t practice the Catholic cult anymore. The only cult symbol they still wore was a Grucifix pin on all their outfits, positioned on the heart as a sign of devotion to Terzo, more than to the project itself.

Despite becoming a fallen Angel, closer to a Ghoul in their energy, they retained most of their naïf nature and a gift rarely seen in a place like the Ministry: a profound empathy for every kind of creature. However, they also developed the strongest negative feelings with consequences that were rather chaotic.

As a result, Terzo had progressively reduced their own presence in all their usual activities, causing half of the Sisters of Sin to hate the now fallen Angel. They blamed them for the reduced occasions to meet the Papa, while the other half started to love them for their capability to relieve the love suffering that Terzo still caused every now and then. Iyrin was slowly trying to gain more approval among the siblings, the same way Terzo had started to do with the audience: by offering support, understanding, and a shoulder to cry on. Terzo often suspected it was a kind of professional deformation, where every sibling’s confession about him was new information to be piled up in their brain and spit out at the most convenient occasion.

The extension of the cult developed around Terzo, outside but mostly inside the Ministry, had paradoxically grown more as he had started to show himself less, and began to show at the Abbey when many Sisters of Sin dyed their hair blonde to try to look like Iyrin and catch the Papas' attention, once the gossip spread about that new favorite partner. Some nuns even started dieting to try to reach their impossible proportions. Funny thing was, Terzo never really had an aesthetic preference, but it was rather amusing to see all those blonde heads during orgies.

But what really upset the Clergy, was that Terzo has proved himself to be a charismatic leader and a brilliant frontman for Ghost, surpassing the achievements of any previous Pontiff. The success of Meliora opened doors to a broader audience, and Terzo's performances, deviating from institutional norms, swiftly became iconic, especially with the drastic wardrobe change for himself and his Ghouls. He claimed the non-liturgical attire made him feel more connected and accepted by the crowd, contradictorily adopting a stronger preaching style than his predecessors. He had just started to talk, communicate with the people, actively driving them to his cause, not expecting the people to find a reason to join by standing mute and still like useless statues. He had just stepped off the pedestal, giving people the illusion of being reachable, perhaps just by extending a hand towards the stage if you were really lucky that day, but his words were what the Clergy feared the most.

He succeeded where Sister Imperator expected a swift failure, and what frustrated her the most was that whenever she anticipated a mistake, he managed to achieve triumph.

Iyrin walked past the doors that led to the garden, where the Sisters of Sin were taping handwritten signposts to invite people to promptly close the doors when passing by to prevent the cats from going outside. A note also informed that the felines were still free to roam inside the internal cloister. They set the cowl of their winter habit over their head and ventured outside.

In the garden, they found Primo sitting on a stone bench under the surprisingly warm sun rays, seemingly enjoying the cool air at the end of winter. Unlike Secondo, he didn’t participate as much in the activities of the Clergy anymore; having spent his entire life in the service of the Church, he just wanted to enjoy his last years in a quiet retirement.

Iyrin’s ritual had been a spectacle attended by half the clergy. Surprisingly, once informed, Primo had been the most interested in the event. After the initial shock of learning that an Angel had been kept in the Ministry, their decision to become a fallen had awakened ancient curiosities in him. Being the most diligent of the three brothers, he was thrilled to attend such an unusual ritual taking place before his eyes.

Him and Secondo were in the first row of the chapel, which was filled like maybe only the papal investment ceremonies were. Sister Imperator was absent, though, like Copia and all her strict collaborators, even though some had sworn to have seen the Cardinal appear at the back of the chapel, sneaking in for a short time.

Although Terzo had suggested Baphomet for their duality and balance, Iyrin had chosen to reunite with their former chief, Azazel, now one of the highest-ranked demons at Satan’s side, master of corruption and vanity, once chief of the Grigori order and among the first angels to rebel and fall.

Iyrin had performed almost the totality of the ritual by themselves in Aramaic, the earthly mother tongue of both, with the assistance of Papa Emeritus III, and his blood offered as a sacrifice. “If I have to be damned,” they had said, “I’ll make sure it will be by my own hands.” More than a ritual, it had been, in fact, the event of a holy creature communicating and connecting with the underworld, in a way nobody had ever practiced in the Abbey. Terzo liked to brag about it, adorning himself with the merits of that conquest.

After the initially skeptical reception, Primo had gradually grown fond of the fallen angel; one could often find them strolling in the garden, arm in arm, discussing theology and magical matters, or working together on supervising sermons and students' papers. They also enjoyed light conversations about music and their shared passion for The Beatles. He found in Iyrin a new, direct source to expand his knowledge, gaining insights from someone who had witnessed firsthand the stories he had only read in books.

“A bit of hustle at the Ministry today, huh?” he started, opening only one eye when he felt the Angel closer.

“We are victims of an attack by a group of rival Satanists, apparently,” then they just added, “Isn’t it a bit too cold to stay outside?”

“I was informed,” he just said, no emotion betraying his firm tone.

“Aren’t you surprised?”

“Internal conflicts among Satanists are an old issue that never fails to surprise me. And, anyway, today is a lovely day, and a bit of cool air can only do good to my old shell,” he quietly reflected. It wasn’t unusual to see him outside, in the garden, under unfavorable weather. He claimed it helped him stay in touch with the elements and the force of nature, while Terzo just considered it a weird habit of a bored retired old man apparently tired of living.

He gestured somewhere beyond the Grigori, “Be patient, Asa, could you please hand me a tangerine from that tree?”

Iyrin hid the spontaneous smile at the way he had called them; they walked towards the tree, reaching the lowest fruits. While roaming their hands through branches and leaves, a quick spring caught their attention: a small mouse briefly looked at them, sitting on a branch, then it ran down the trunk. Now that the cats were confined inside, the rats would thrive, they thought.

They walked back with four tangerines: two for Primo, one for the Ghoul sitting at a comfortable distance, and one for themselves.

“How come you don’t participate in Councils anymore? Your opinion would be very helpful in such situations.”

Primo just shook his head lightly, inspecting the fruit in his hand. “I won’t be of any help to who is deaf and blind.”

Iyrin looked down, immediately understanding who he was talking about. “Sometimes he just doesn’t want any replies to the things he decides. He’s very determined.”

“Only sometimes?” He asked rhetorically, finally peeling the thick skin of the fruit, “Listening and negotiation are crucial abilities for a leader. Unfortunately, Terzo lacks both qualities, along with many others that will get him in trouble one day. That’s why I opposed his promotion." He took one slice and added “Determination is a good quality when it is sided by a strong vision, but he’s losing that. Maybe all this success is not doing good to someone like him.”

“That’s why maybe he would benefit from guidance like yours.”

But Primo just shook his head again. “I won’t be as tolerant as you or obliging as Secondo,” he swallowed the fruit, moving his lips in a shadow of a smirk, “My patience is not what it used to be. How is it going with your voices, instead?” He quickly changed the topic.

The Angel just sighed, looking somewhere away from them. “Sometimes they whisper and sometimes they scream. Music is helping.”

“One day you’ll have to start listening to them; our Lord is speaking to you, and sometimes his ways are difficult to understand.” Talking to him, sometimes you could lose sight of the fact he was talking of Satan and not God. “He is in all things, in all feelings that make our skin crawl or our head spin, inside and outside of us. You need to keep the door open for Him.”

They nodded, swallowing the fruit. They thought it was a strange trick of fate to pass from a silent God to such an invasive one.

“How is it going with the soap I made for you then?” this time it was them who changed the topic.

“Oh, look.” his face softened like he just remembered something beautiful, “You’ve done a miracle. The irritation is almost completely gone. I haven't felt my skin so soft in years.” He slid off one of the gloves to show the skin of his hands, visibly improved. Winter hadn’t been gentle with his hands, already damaged by a lifetime of glove covering, provoking irritations and wounds to his delicate skin that regular creams and soaps didn’t help. Nothing comparable to the healing powers of a Watcher and their knowledge in alchemy.

“I’ll prepare some more, then. And some cream, too.” they said, taking his uncovered hand into theirs to warm it up. “But let’s go inside now, before the cold does its damage again.”

Neither of them had noticed Terzo standing by one of the windows of his office, observing them talking for a few minutes.

He was relieved to know that he could rely on his older brother's support in taking care of Iyrin while he was away on tour or for promotion. Yet, upon his return, he had to confront the reality of what it meant to be in the initial phases of possession.

He turned only when he heard the familiar voice of Sister Imperator call for him. “Did you ask for me?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, taking his place at the large desk. It was still early in the morning, and he knew he wouldn’t probably leave that room until the sun would set again, “We need to talk about the security of the Ministry.”

Imperator just nodded, taking her seat.

Hours later, Terzo was easing Iyrin down on the numerous pillows of his bed; the hair of the Grigori spread waves of pale platinum on the purple sheets.

“Ah… look at you…” he mumbled while unbuttoning his shirt. “And I’m lucky enough to come back to my room to this fine, warm devilish creature waiting for me in my bed…” He got rid of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, leaving his slightly defined abs exposed, and revealing the reason why the highest rank figures were covered from head to toe: a thick map of cuts and scars on both arms that didn’t spare hands and palms, testimony of years of rituals. Soon he knelt on Iyrin, kissing them with impatience.

Sex was still amazing, but it wasn’t always enough to distend the fallen angel’s nerves whenever a trigger made their brain click. That night, though, it was Terzo who needed his nerves distended after the long day he had been through.

Iyrin adjusted on the pillows, looking at him. “I wasn’t waiting for you. You literally dragged me in.”

“I said waiting for me in my bed... ”

“And your cat is staring at us again.”

At the door, Bastet was sitting on the floor, looking at the scene until she just decided to leave them alone and roam somewhere else. She had gotten used to Iyrin’s presence only after their conversion and seemed to barely tolerate them, but the Angel still felt slightly embarrassed by the cat’s constant stare in those intimate moments. It had taken the help of four Sisters to finally find her, curled up among the warm sheets of the laundry, welcoming the nun who found her with the widest, careless yawn. It turned out that the sacrificed cat was still one of the Ministry colony, named Maudit. Terzo was incredibly hurt by that, even if relieved it wasn’t his personal cat.

Satan must have blessed the sacrifice, as only a few days later, three new lives would come to light in the colony. One of the kittens, chosen by Terzo himself, would be named after Maudit (II).

“See? She’s gone… she feels unwelcome,” he lazily joked. “Where have you been all day anyway?”

“I was with Primo, talking about soaps.”

“Uhm, ok.” He just cut in between one kiss and the other.

But something was stopping Iyrin from really enjoying that moment of intimacy. It didn’t take long for them to speak again. “Terzo.”

Terzo’s face rose from their neck, where his lips were busy kissing it in a failed attempt to ignore them. “Yes, darling?”

“You literally shut me up at the meeting.”

Terzo blinked, “I told you we’d discuss whatever you were saying. Just not there.”

“That was the place to discuss.” They observed. “You never let me speak when there is someone else listening.”

“You mean I don’t let you publicly scold the Pontiff with your indelicate sarcasm?” The conversation didn’t stop him from sliding down the fallen angel’s underwear, with his eyes still fixed on their face. “What are you afraid of?”

Iyrin arched and moaned softly when he caressed their inner thigh all the way up, softly rubbing his thumb where it connected to the groin. “Just… I’m not really sure of this concert idea.”

“The band will be playing in a small venue, I’ll have enough Ghouls to track those cunts down, and you.” Again, his mouth searched for their skin, leaving a damp trail from the collarbone to the jaw while teasing their sensitive area. “You’re coming, right?”

“It will be very hard.” They reflected, adjusting to his touch. Terzo took one of their hands just to place it on his crotch, inviting them to take some kind of action. Iyrin distractedly committed to it, starting to lightly caress him while overthinking. He was indeed hard. “A small venue is still thousands of people; it will be hard to differentiate all energies in that mess. Everybody will be hyped up, creating mixed signals. The Ghouls will be terribly excited.”

Terzo delved on their neck again, biting and kissing whatever he could. His hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it with a certain rush. “Oh yeah… excited…”

“Dear Lord, Terzo! Are you listening?”

Terzo stopped and sighed, loudly, getting the idea there would probably be no sex that night if he didn’t pay attention to them. “If we don’t find them, they will probably attack us again to get our attention. I’ll have the security around the Ministry reinforced.” He nodded, like to cement those words. He cradled the Grigori’s hand in his, caressing it lightly. “It’s been a long time since I last attended a concert as a guest. Even if they don’t show up, it will be worth it anyway.” He reassured. “Take it as a night out. Metallica are my close friends, it’s going to be fun. You always say I need to get distracted sometimes. Won’t you like a bit of fun with me?”

Iyrin looked down, pondering. “What if you find them? What are you going to do with them?”

He just shrugged, “Having a little conversation?” but his answer sounded rather incomplete. He probably didn’t have any plan and would just come up with something with what he liked to do best: improvise.

Iyrin nodded, even if still doubtful. “You can’t wait to create a bit of mayhem, don’t you?”

“… Well, that’s one of my evil specialties.” He smirked, then he became more serious again. “Are you coming, then? I’ll need at least one brain there to assist me.”

Iyrin nodded again, then sighed. “If you’re crazy, I’ll just be crazy with you.”

“Good…” He just kissed them on their cheek, closer to the angle of their lips, leaning on them again. “Now show a little love to your Papa for once… I need you to come tonight too.”

___ Notes:

*The Inner Circle was the name given to a group of self proclaimed Satanists, that involved the Norwegian black metal band Mayhem and Burzum. During the end of the 80s and beginning of 90s they committed a series of crimes, like catholic cemetery desecration, catholic church burning and murders, but they targeted also metal bands that weren’t “Satanists enough” in their opinion. Terzo refers to these episodes when he says “Ah, what’s this? 1991 again? Is Burzum back with his shit?”

#the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band #papa emeritus lll #terzo x oc #papa emeritus terzo #terzo x omega #cardinal copia #papa emeritus i #primo emeritus #terzo emeritus #terzo fanfiction #secondo emeritus #sister imperator

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street-light-poetry · 1 year

Text

ID in read more + as always, you can find this poem (and 393 others) on my patreon

TITLED

Walk up to her; fuzzy,

doubled - already, though her image

remains a bit late, shivering

yet stuck in sticky gauze. This is not

about her.

She wears a dress

of all-foaminess;

you remain free to picture

whatever you like. Only, remember,

the main tones are tender: spring blue, lilac,

a charming pink; green, of course, all around,

as the newest leaves unfold gaily. The light,

the light: is golden, is fresh; is clean, is a lover's gaze;

fills in, conveniently, the blanks.

This is not about her. Nor is it

about her. (Pay attention.)

You should not fear

such beauty. Isn't innocence,

isn't purity ideal feed

for your tired mind?

Remember: your mind exists. So does imagination.

All the pictures were true. Sleep, now, gently

cradled by her full arms,

among fragrant flowers - which she carries,

that much is certain.

(On the alert). This is not about her. Nor are there any flowers

in your story. Nor is there any story

in your mind. Nor is there any mind

within her. Ad lib. You understand. (I hope you will.)

A trellis covered in bindweed

(white, delicate) opens on a lovely perspective. Behind are the hedges,

the labyrinth (oh! nothing to be afraid of - fear is a game:

you play the part of the knight errant,

valiant, and pure-hearted; worth, in the end,

will triumph; but even the trial will leave you

barely disoriented. Whet your appetite, mostly. Hear the bell

and run back in).

(This is not about initiation. Nobility is irrelevant)

You would be seduced by the enchantments

that a slender girl wove; a jar of air and light only,

and what brilliant company for a solitary soul! Such would be your fate. A river

singing nearby. Unfortunately,

This is not about her, nor confinement;

You would cry for violins, ignorant

of a single strung melody.

(Don't let yourself be distracted.)

A bowl of quartz, carved into

a many-sided shape, filled with water. Under the light

the water spills and turns but never drops. And mere sight

of the water's light, its double on the wall (are you with me still?)

shall suffice to quench your thirst forever. However -

Someone must hold the bowl.

Let me rephrase. The second she enters the space

filled with light, sees the fluid crystal - you lose. Unreal again.

This is not about her. In the meantime

Scholars quarrel over your oldest name,

your typical attributes

by which to say, with leaden assurance:

"There, such was the sentence: revealed, unraveled".

This is not about the scholars. They will write on your throat (certain).

This is not about her.

Think, quickly, understand

before thirst kills you: this trial

never takes long.

#march madness. you know how it is #mine #poetry

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years

Text

break up in a small town (jake “hangman” seresin)

a/n: no one talked me into doing this, my undiagnosed adhd hyperfocused and produced this. i’m gonna write what is a sequel to memory i don’t mess with and this is the prequel in a sense, but you should definitely read that one first if you haven’t read it yet. sets the tone and context and such

mildly inspired by sam hunt’s “break up in a small town”

memory i don’t mess with | when i get where i’m going

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: break-ups, slight angst, brief mention of terminal illness, she a shortie, i still don’t know how the military works, i included a lizzy mcalpine quote courtesy of my friend but i’m not telling you who it applies to you have to guess,

word count: 1,211

“and the funny thing is I would’ve married you/if you had stuck around”-lizzy mcalpine, doomsday

Jake loved his little town, he did. He couldn’t even leave his house without the ghost of his past haunting him, memories floating in his peripheral. He was tired of the looks from his friends, the people in town, even neighbors he’d never spoken to since news of your breakup had hit the masses. Everyone had said that it was the two of you till the end of time. And for a while he had agreed, kissed your temple, and talk about how he couldn’t wait to marry you someday. But Jake hadn’t been the one to make the decision to end it had he? Never mind all that though, he wasn't going to waste an unnecessary second thinking about the break-up or how much it had hurt. He wouldn’t think about how angry he was that you had thrown away the relationship before it ever really had a chance, how terrified he was for the day he’d see you again. Terrified he’d leave for the Navy and never see you again. What Jake didn’t expect to hear about was you moving on so quickly. He had thought, assumed, that your relationship had meant more. It had to him. You were his forever and the only girl he considered marriage for. He wouldn’t admit or think about how much his heart broke when he got those all knowing looks from his sister or heard whispers of your new flame in town. He was torn and conflicted and so he settled on not thinking about it all, making the most of his last few weeks at home before leaving for basic training.

Jake couldn’t forget the night it had all ended though, the memory replaying everyday in the back of his head, meticulously picking apart the fight and your relationship for a decision, a choice, a sentence, a word that could have changed the outcome. But you’d made the choice and he couldn’t change your mind. You had stood firm in what you wanted and what the future held for the two of you.

He couldn’t understand why you were upset. He’d enlisted in the Navy just a few days prior, was in the process of going through all of his tests, and after passing them, he’d wait and then get his basic training placement. This wasn’t news to you, all things the two of you had discussed before he’d ever even sent in his papers. But you’d mumbled about seeing Mrs. Thompson, the widow of a Navy officer, in town today, had had dinner with the woman, and were now in some kind of freak-out about him enlisting in the Navy. The two of you had been arguing, but there’d been a pause as the anger seemed to run out of you. You slumped down at a chair at your kitchen counter and Jake followed suit. His hand reached out for you, placing it on your thigh as you held your head in your hands. He shifted some your hair so it was no longer covering your face as he realized you were crying. “Baby, I don’t understand what’s happening.” He whispered, rubbing a thumb across your thigh.

“Jake, I can’t-” He visibly saw the words get trapped in your throat and his heart sank. He knew where this conversation was going. You stayed silent for a few more moments, clearly trying to formulate a sentence around the tears. He’d give you all the time you needed if it meant you would stay. “I’m so scared you’re going to leave and not come back. And I- I’m just supposed to wait here in this stupid town not knowing when or if I’ll see you again?” Jake desperately yearned to take you in his arms, hold you close, let you know that it was all going to be okay.

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. When I leave for basic, I’ll see you afterwards. Once I get my deployment orders, we’ll know more. You’ll be in school, working towards your degree okay? We’re gonna figure it out together.”

“I’m not going.” You muttered. He froze. What? “Mom’s getting too sick, someone needs to stay here and look after Tyler and the business.” He didn’t know that. Why hadn’t you told him that? “Called the school yesterday and officially changed my enrollment notice.” A heavy silence hung in the dim room as he took in the news. You weren’t going to college. Passed up on something that had been your dream to look after your family and here Jake was, getting ready to leave you alone to wherever the Navy would send him. “Jake, it’s not- not just the long distance.”

“Baby, what are you saying?” He knew exactly what you were saying.

“Okay, so we go through basic. And then deployment. And then what? Jake I can’t handle knowing every time you leave me it may be the last time I see you. After losing my Dad, I will not lose you too.”

“Baby, you aren’t gonna lose me.”

“You can’t guarantee that! Jake, you can not guarantee that wherever the Navy sends you isn’t gonna cost you your life!” He swallows. You weren’t wrong.

“I’m gonna do my very best to come home to you baby, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“And I’m supposed to sit here, taking care of my baby brother and dying mother, living everyday in fear and anxiety that the next time my phone rings it’s gonna be some Navy officer to tell me my boyfriend is dead? No thanks, Jake. That is an awful way to live and I can’t - won’t - live like that.” His heart pounded in his chest, mind reeling as he took in the severity and sincerity of the words. He knew what was about to happen. “It’s better if we end it now. I’d rather lose you like this, where I get to say goodbye, than lose you like that.”

“Baby, please don’t this, we’ll figure something out I promise, please just don’t-” Jake was desperate, tears of his own starting to form.

“My decision’s been made. You're not changing my mind.”

“But I love you.” He whispered, voice cracking. His head bowed, body shaking with silent tears.

“And I love you.” His heart held out a dangerous flame of hope. “But I can’t force myself to live like that.” The flame of hope extinguished painfully in his heart. “I love you enough to let you go.” He took a deep breath and then stood up from the table, wondering if he should say anything. But you wouldn’t look at him and you were right, your decision had been made. He walked out of your house, shutting the door behind him for the last time, missing the way you whispered goodbye. He slid into his truck, breath catching in his throat. He drove down the gravel road, trying not to think about what he was leaving behind, focusing on ignoring every part of his body that was screaming at him to go back, fix this, don’t let her leave.

He loved her, but he would have to love her enough to let her go.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin fics #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin imagines #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic

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tideswept · 6 months

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For the writer questions, "What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?" and/or "How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?" (what a fantastic list)

HI DAE~

(from this ask game!)

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

UM. So this might sound strange, but I read while I write? If I get to the point where my brain starts lagging, or I hit a block, or I'm just Not Happy with what's on the page, I always have a book (or ebook, in this case) open that I'll switch back to for 1-3 pages, because keeping one's nose to the grindstone doesn't work that well when you lose track of everything else, you know? Tunnel vision.

It helps refresh my brain as to what "good writing" is supposed to look like. Varied sentence structure, a reminder to describe the background with more emotional depth, that scene changes can be abrupt, that I'm allowed to summarize events before picking a point to enter a new scene.

I also usually try to match the book to what I'm writing in some way. Is the fic set in 19th century England and skews to gothic horror? So does the book. Otherwise, the change in tone/setting is too abrupt. (For me, anyway.)

It almost feels like being fed encouragement? I dunno. Weird parasocial phase with a book.

How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

Close to absolutely none! I usually just start fics and then feel my way around. I've tried to do prep work, but it doesn't provide good results. I'll get stuck on the research phase forever and never be happy with whatever I write to start off, because I've made the fic already bigger and more important by being armed with so much knowledge, that just starting it becomes a repetitive task of failure, a constant rolling of that boulder.

Mind you, I enjoy research! I just do it while I write. Like, I won't hesitate to stop writing for 20 minutes just to tumble down a rabbit hole of researching when halogen lights were invented, what form they first took, how available they would have been in X country during X time period and how much they cost, all for a tiny, nothing sentence like "the halogen lights flickered over their heads" that impacts nothing in the story if I just omitted that they were halogen lights. So no prep work, but a decent amount of research still happens.

Oh, and, um, if prep work meant more like outlines and such--no. None. The way I describe my process is that when an idea/notion occurs to me, I'll start writing and usually throughout the first couple thousand words I'll hit upon what the fic is, at the core, rather than just me going OKAY SO ANAKIN WANTS TO BREAK INTO PORN-- and suddenly it's about the fear of true intimacy and the raw honesty that you feel when texting a stranger. So, boom, now I have my bones. Everything else, muscles, organs, flesh, they form in pieces as the story takes shape in my head. I'll usually have specific scenes/things I want to happen, but I leave it very loose as to how I get there.

(It's why my bestie and beta knows that when I describe the stage of the process as "light surgery" I'm referring to cosmetic surgery, aka, it's superficial and the very least stage before I'm satisfied with how far I can take a fic, and now it's her turn to check my work. If it's deeper editing that's needed, it's a system of like "superficial skin", "flesh", "muscle" --if I need to edit the organs that's MAJOR rewriting of scenes or removal of them. If I say there's a problem with the bones? That's usually code red for "we need to spend 2 hours discussing where the fic went wrong, why, and how it can be fixed.")

Uh. So I guess now everyone knows I'm weird. Sorry, friends.

#ask game #horror tag maybe?#writerly things #berrytalk.txt

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knockknockfan · 1 year

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Axeswap chapter 0 : Mistakes and hopes

Once upon a time, a child fell into the underground

That child's name is Frisk

she is a quiet and intelligent child adopted by the king and queen live happily in new family

But she made a mistake(Everyone knows Frisk's plan to eat buttercup flowers in Underswap so I won't repeat it) her monster kid brother is dead And she was stuck in the unknown space Surrounded by only darkness, no sound, no light, she called out her parents' names in vain

but nobody came

in her despair, her surroundings suddenly glowed with colors.she met a monster child he introduced himself as Sans the skeleton .He is sweet, innocent and a bit arrogant ? whatever , he said a lot of things he said he had never seen a human other than the dead princess .Sans always answers Frisk's questions about the world out there and always insists that he will become a royal guard and make friends with everyone

The arrival of Sans saved Frisk's mind. But Sans doesn't always show up, she always waits to see him ,she speculated that maybe she appeared in his dream and maybe he was her soulmate ,After many years she fell in love with Sans, this love ignited determination in her dead soul.

She doesn't want Sans to leave her, wants him to stay with her forever. Loneliness destroyed her soul and mind, and she tried to keep Sans from waking up in real life. Attempts to tamper with Sans files and cores ( yandere Frisk ~)

It almost succeeded , but she made the mistake of having someone fix the Sans core line . It made it impossible for her to intervene and see Sans again .once again fell into despair, in her heart only regret and madness remained. She hates the person who took Sans from her, she hates herself for messing things up again

And then hope comes again. It was the appearance of the 8th child, the 7th soul, Chara .somehow Frisk and Chara's souls are in sync

She was taken out of that dark space and into the real world .Since then, she has taken the ghost to follow Chara, become a companion and an observer of the journey

Frisk meets Sans again and miraculously he sees her but can't touch her . Since then, Frisk longs to live, to be with the people she loves

Good luck to her when Undyne and Chara built a magic identification mechanism , she is very happy to be alive again , although her body is unstable and very weak but that is all she needs.She was married to Sans and made one of the royal scientists along with Undyne (Frisk still doesn't like Papyrus for sure) .

(Sweet story huh? but this is not my style =)) )

(you can read in detail every story from when Frisk got pregnant to when Chara ran away with her baby)

Get everything and lose everything in one day , She blamed herself for everything, but she couldn't give up her hope out there, her unnamed child and her hero.

She will try and survive to protect her husband .Even though Frisk has a bad relationship with Papyrus, they work well together everything is fine except Frisk's artificial body is quite weak, it can be compensated by her fighting skills and intelligence The truth is much weaker after giving birth, even though Frisk's will and determination are strong

When the Hunger attacked Snowdin, it had a very bad effect on Sans .Frisk and Papyrus often had to chain him up so he wouldn't hurt himself or hurt others

After 2 years Frisk's health is getting worse .She couldn't even walk and could only stay in bed. Right now only Sans was with her when he was awake and Papyrus who informed her about the situation and discussed the plan with her.Hope is still there Frisk is still one day Chara and her daughter, they will be freed either way

Suddenly one day while discussing plans with Papyrus. Suddenly he stood up in shock, she felt the dent in his skull quiver.

''she's back, i can fe-''without finishing his sentence he used teleport away

she knew exactly what Paps said, she tried to stay calm and collected to feel Chara's soul.Yes she is, she's nearby but it's weak Chara's determination is strong but it's unstable .But unfortunately Hunger came to disturb her mind , she tried to handcuff her legs on the bed . Sans saw that he burst in from outside the room door to restrain his wife

This time is very different , she should wish unusual . She pushed Sans away shouting ''Run'' but soon broke the chain to chase him.They have a tense chase, while Frisk is trying to control his mind, Sans is trying not to hurt his wife.

It's all over when Papyrus returns .Frisk was shocked she couldn't believe what was happening in front of her eyes , in Paps' hands is the disfigured corpse of Chara and a child

She really lost her mind all her hopes were dashed. Those bloodshot eyes lit up with a monstrous smile towards Papyrus takes a knife in hand to commit suicide

She was stopped by Sans and pinned to the ground by Papyrus now she could clearly see the tear-stained face and the anger in Papyrus' eyes

'' FRISK WHAT ARE YOU DOING'' Sans screaming

''sounds familiar, doesn't it Paps she used to say the same thing when we did something crazy''she glared at Papyrus

''come on, don't be sad, we won't have to hope in vain anymore right~''

''no we can do something , Human can eat my taco and she will be fine''Sans tries to calm the atmosphere

''HAHHAHAHAHHA'' Frisk laughs madly

'' '' be fire huh ?'' ARE YOU BLIND SHE'S DEATH, PLEASE DON'T LIVE LIKE A IDIOT AND LOOK''she shouted at her husband what she had never done before

''...'' Sans is dumbfounded

''How dare you say that, you have lost your mind''Papyrus pinned Frisk's soul to the ground in Sans' concern

''That's right, I'm sane enough, I want to lose my mind for once''she looked at Papyrus nonchalantly and continued

''You know my life is a mess, and I'm a fool who makes one mistake after another. I'm tired of thinking, I want to really rest. Please end me, take that soul and get out of here''her eyes filled with tears, her eyes earnestly begged Papyrus

Papyrus hesitated for a moment then knocked Sans unconscious so he wouldn't have to bear the brunt of this horrible scene . In his trance, Sans saw Papyrus with teary eyes saying something before stabbing his wife's heart with a bone.

It's been a long time, it's 4:30 am in my country. Can't believe I finished chapter 0 in one day .Anyway, I'm glad you read it. The next chapter will continue with Aliza's journey

Axetale and axswap by @bananafrappe-@azulandrojo

Undertale by Toby fox

#axetale #axeswap #undertale #undertale au #frans #papyrus #chara #papyrus x chara

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kalcifers-blog · 1 year

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MAG 114209: The IRIS of The Eye

A JSE Ego x TMA Crossover fanfic

Content Warning!! Discussions of violence, self inflicted injury and insinuation of suicidal behaviour. Nothing is in graphic detail, but please stay safe while reading!!

[Tape Recorder clicks]

The Archivist: (sighs) Alright, let's try this again shall we-

Chase Brody: oh for fu- is that really necessary? Why do you people all insist on recording people??

The Archivist: oh- sorry this is just- procedure. It's kind of my job to make sure statements are recorded properly- unless you don't- want- to make a statement?

Chase: (interrupted the last sentence) No- no. I'm sorry- I just- I need to do this I think. I'm not exactly sure what this place is but... I think- somethin' tells me that this is the place to get this out there somehow

The Archivist: I see.. well. Whenever you're ready, we can begin

Chase: (deep breath) okay. Yeah I'm ready.

The Archivist: Alright. Statement of Chase Brody regarding the entity referred to as ALTR 114209. Statement taken directly from sub- from Mr. Brody himself. Statement overseen and recorded by Jonathan Sims. The Archivist. Statement begins:

Chase: [statement]

I feel like I can't really talk about this without some context first? I grew up in Ireland- you- you probably already guessed that because of the accent- but yeah. I'm from Ireland. My life there was miserable. I grew up in a small town. One of those classic "everyone knows everyone" schticks. Mostly because my Ma insisted on going to the local church to do all her socialising- I went there too consistently 'til she passed. I was 15 at the time.

Before she did I was convinced I wanted her out of my life, we never got along- I'm not saying that I completely change my mind now it's just- when someone like that leaves your life forever you start thinking about "what could have been" far more often. When she did pass I knew I wanted out- I needed to get away so I saved up my scraps of money to go to college in Britain. Maybe I wanted to get away or run from my feelings- I just. The way everyone would look at me, knowing what I was going through, giving me these- disgusting looks of pity- I needed out. I needed a get away.

So I moved. My Father didn't care too much, the man was out half the time for work and when he wasn't his hand was glued to his ale. I told myself I wouldn't end up like that- miserable sack of shit but- (chuckles sadly) I- I guess things don't always go to plan, huh?

Anyway- My life did start turnin' around when I got to the UK. The college I went too was pretty mediocre but the people I met were some of the most incredible- the person who changed my life forever in ways I couldn't have ever imagined was Jack.

Jack was my first friend- after realising we where both Irish and kinda had a really uncanny similarity to us, everyone always joked that we had to be twins because of how similar we looked. Despite the fact I'm nearly four years older than him- anyway uh- he got me into gaming.

I'd played games before of course but, this was the first time I played proper video games, especially the horror games, my Ma tried convincin me anything to do with horror was born out of evil and well- actually playing them for the first time was really eye opening as to how stupid that idea was.

I know this all sounds like useless information but I promise it's important- what you need to know is that Jack was my best friend. He introduced me to things that would be some of my favourite things ever, he was there when I got with and broke up with my first boyfriend and through everything, all of those disgusting sides of how bad my mental health got, Jack was one of the only ones who stuck by my side. So when he asked me to be his editor when his YouTube career took off I didn't think twice about saying yes.

I don't think I need to tell you about the successful YouTuber Jacksepticeye- and how he's the largest ever YouTuber from Ireland- how he managed to accumulate millions of subscribers before his disappearance on Halloween of 2016.

Of course, now I know that video that was put up on his channel that wasn't uploaded by me or him and definitely wasn't edited by myself wasn't actually a fake.

No one knew what to make of "Say Goodbye" when it first released. For me I was confused- Jack obviously can edit videos on his own, in fact its pretty common for him to do so- but he always lets me know if he does. There's never been an occasion in which he didn't in the entire time I was working for him. So when that video dropped with no warning I immediately felt off about it.

I won't tell you what happened in that video. You don't need to hear the details of Jack seemingly hurting himself to the point that he was placed in a medically induced coma- I was watching the video itself when I got the call- his doctor- German if I had to guess from his accent, calling me to let me know and to ask me some questions, due to the nature of his injury.

I don't care who comes in to tell you. Jack did not try to kill himself. I refuse to believe he ever would. Jack like I mentioned, was more than my boss, he was my closest friend and we told each other everything. There was just. Nothing. Not a single thing to indicate in his life that he would ever want to hurt himself like that.

I ended up staying in contact with the German doctor, his name's Henrik Schneeplestien- really nice actually. And it was talking to him that I got an email from Jack's account. Not his business "Jacksepticeye" account- his personal one, the one I knew he used exclusively for things that where for his personal life.

When I got that email my blood froze over. It was a video. It was that video. But it was longer. There was more to it. Instead of Jack's body lying there- lifeless and bleeding out. It jerked. It jerked upwards- like his muscles and joints where all connected to strings and being hoisted up against his will, like a fucking puppet.

The thing wearing Jacks dying body laughed. It laughed tormenting us- Henrik started believeing me after watching it with me the first time.

I'll spare you the details of how my life derailed after that. The months of waiting for Jack to wake up. Of Henrik losing his mind trying to understand what's going on. The disappearance of both Jack's body and Henrik himself. Me finding the most beautiful woman on the planet and finally feeling like a person again with her. Only for her and our child to be ripped away from me by that fucking thing that insisted on destroying everything in my life that gave living meaning.

Every time something bad happened it was there, still wearing Jack's face. Puppeting him around with this wicked smirk it had some crude inside joke I wasn't apart of.

I lost everything. My friend was gone, my wife and child where dead, the only person who ever cared to hear me out was missing and to top it all off I had some demon wannabe kicking my skull into rock bottom. Just so I knew that my misery wasn't over.

I had enough. I drove myself to a forest, it was our favourite place to go to as a family in the short 3 years we got to be a family. I wasn't planning on leaving that day. I decided then and there that I wasn't having it anymore. I was done. That thing won. I gave in and I just wanted it to be over.

I still can't tell you what happened to me. But I was in the forest one second and the next I was on top of a parking garage miles away. Whatever happened to me, I knew it was the only weird thing that wasn't brought to me because of that fucking monster. I still don't know what- but I just. I just KNOW alright. I just. Know.

Anyway, not long after that I'm detained by IRIS. Your institute already have all the information you need on that fucking place. I was there for questioning about what happened to me that day. And my experiences with the thing thats been destroying my life. There wasn't anything more to say other than what I've already told you.

They where about to put me under "special containment" dragging me against my will further in the building. The whole building felt like it was screaming at me to leave- that something bad was going to happen- I wished I was wrong.

That thing came back. It was still wearing my friends face and it killed any and all workers that came close to it. All it said to me was "hello, Chase" before I blacked out. I don't remember how I somehow managed to wake up in London- or how this nagging voice in my brain told me to come here. I don't know what "ALTR 114209" is, why it decided I was going to be it's plaything or what it even is. I just....

I just need someone to know that this thing is out there and more people will die if IRIS continues the way it has done for years now.

[Statement Ends]

Chase: (deep sigh) Jesus- I- How'd you- how did you get me to do that-

The Archivist: trust me, that's a long story- I just. I'm sorry are you insinuating that IRIS is somehow- responsible? For the actions of this entity?

Chase: yeah I thought I made that pretty fucking obvious man. IRIS has done nothing but hide the truth from me, borderline torture me and do absolute jack shit when something bad happens to anyone- including their own workers mind you.

The Archivist: Okay well... Fair enough. But please be cautious, if IRIS is behind all of this. You don't want to talk about it here, not in a place like this

Chase: oh just because your boss is watching doesn't mean I have to worry about him snitching to the SCP ripoff

The Archivist: wait- what did you jus- how did you- do you. (Whispering) Do you know that Elias Bouchard is listening and can see everyone in the building- there's no way for you to of....

The Archivist: Oh..... I see.. Chase I- I think I know why you might be a target-

Chase: (quietly) wh.. what- what do you mean by that..?

The Archivist: let me get you a drink. This will take a long time to explain.

[Tape Recorder clicks off]

That's all!! Thank you SM if you read through this, I'm very new to writing fanfic so I hope that this is alright!! A lot of people really liked the idea of a crossover between JSE lore and TMA so of course I had to write up how I imagine Chase Brody's Statement.

Again thank you SM for all the support and I hope to get some more drawing/writing done soon!! <333

#jacksepticeye #jse egos #chase brody #jse #jse fanfiction #jse ego fanfic #the eye tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #fanfic #writing #crossover fic #honey quartz blog

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