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moonchild-in-blue · 2 months

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Hey, remember that time II kissed Vessel's arm? Okay byyeeeee :D

Well HELLO GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO

(yes i did see this before i went to bed but i was wayyy too eepie to reply)

I hope you know this has just set the mood for my entire day so. I'm gonna be extra yearning and soft and whiny 👍 Sorry about that guys, I'm a pathetic wet cat of a person 😞

He could've hugged him. He could've high fived. He could've done that guy thing where they slap each other's butts and it's totally platonic and wholesome and hilarious.

AND YET. Mr. Daddy Twofoot (cmon guys, catch up on the name) KISSED??? HIS ARM??? On the sensitive soft part too?????

Like. Okay. Yeah yeah, the boyfriends, etc etc. But let me be actually serious for a second here.

(hello this turned out to be way longer and sappy than i intended so)

Do you see how effortless that was? He didn't hesitate for a second. How often do you see two guys (who I'm assuming are straight) be this affectionate with each other? A kiss on the inner arm is *such* a tender, intimate gesture, regardless of gender/sexuality - a type of action that is not usually expected between straight men.

And I don't know, I find it incredibly endearing and important to see that, as much as they do all that funny sexy stuff for the fans (and for themselves too - they seem to have so so much fun), these type of actions seem to be a part of their regular off-stage interactions. You can feel how genuinely good friends they all are.

And in the case of Vessel and ii, the founders of Sleep Token and the major force behind it all - how surreal and incredible it must be for them to get to experience all of this together. To see their hard work paying off. To stand proudly in front of literal thousands of people side by side with your best friend??? HELLO???

It's such a small thing, but I carries so much weight ya know? Like yeah dude, I love you and I'm proud of you, and you did a wonderful job. Isn't it SO touching???

I just LOVE to see it. Men who are vulnerable and affectionate around each other, who are comfortable in it, who shows us that yes, platonic friendships and pda are beautiful and important and in no way make you any less of a men. Which is something a LOT of dudebros in the metal scene would benefit in knowing.

I just. I don't know bro. Vessel x ii interactions mean the whole word to me. I was just talking with someone a few days ago of just how far Vessel has come in his music journey, and even within Sleep Token, the difference between One days and now is. Nothing short of astronomical. It feels almost miraculous, yet it is anything bUT, because we know how much effort V and ii put into making the music we so love. And of course iii, although not part of the creation process, has been with them from the beginning as well.

Can you imagine how overwhelmingly awesome and scary it must be for them?? And what are the odds of after a few years of changes, they somehow found the perfect person to complete them? SO MUCH SO, that you can see just how close iii and iv are BY THEIR MIRRORING ATTIRES?? HELLOOOOO ???? SOULMATES FR FR

Aaaa I feel like I'm going off on a huge tangent, and I am stopping now before I bring up the German Rituals and Wembley. December was a wild month omg I have not recovered yet.

I just!!! My heart!!! I love them. Vessel PLEASE I have been begging on my hands and knees, PLEASE PLEASE give your drummer a smooch omg he deserves it poor guy has the twinkliest prettiest eyes ever how can you NOT 🥺✨💙

Anyways. Yes, I do remember. Good gif 🙂👍

#good morning sleep token tumblr family #i am in SHAMBLES already 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍#someone please come shatter my bones or kiss my mouth because I don't think I can do this much longer #it's Missing The Vessels hours #more specifically. It's Missing Mister Vessel the First hours #my mostest beloved 😔 i am legitimately about to cry yall i am having an emotional crisis #if anyone wants to come over and watch the Room Below show you are SO welcomed #sleep token #darya answers

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polteergeistt · 2 months

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I need a fucking minute. Gotta adopt him real quick. Source.

#MISTER SLEEP TOKEN THE SECOND DRUMMER KING TWO BABYGIRL #IF THOSE ARE NOT GOOD BOY EYES I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE #LOOK AT HIM #HE LOOKS LIKE HE'S ABOUT TO BREAK DOWN SOBBING #HE'S A PATHETIC WET. CAT.#HE IS CHANNELING HIS INNER VESSEL THE FIRST SLEEP TOKEN SIR #THE BABY I'M SMOOCHING HIM #WHO HURT HIM. IT'S ON SIGHT.#GIVE THIS MAN A NECK OR A CHEST TO NUZZLE INTO #NFKFKGKFKDJDKFKFK #sleep token #sleep token band #worshitposting #ii sleep token #sleep token ii #ii

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frmtheroombelow · 15 days

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something about Ves awakens in me the overwhelming need to bite him

#^ the ravings of a centuries old vampire #take a bite? dont have to ask me twice mister vessel the first #'feel like im your cat im your dog' txt wrote cat & dog about me #veep token

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leonsleftbicep · 2 months

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“Good Morning”

i dont write smut a lot so have fun with this short thing. technically another installment of ducks asexual ass writes smut.

word count: 207

prompt: “ay mister token the first what you doing babes? aka vessels hips stuttering when he cu-”. very much inspired by that clip of vessel in the blue lighting (during higher)

this was written from the mid point because i hate writing the build up.

tags(?): Vessel x III, slight somnophilia(i believe), they/them pronouns for vessel, smut, oral sex, cockwarming(kinda).

“III.. l- love~” vessel chokes out as they ruts into the taller’s mouth, a lovely morning surprise. Already hard, sleepy confusion still clouding their mind as they push III’s head down against them. III swallowing around Vessel and taking them like its nothing, Vessel is already close to the edge. “III, please, im not.. FUCK” vessel screams as their hips stutter when they push themself down III’s throat. III places his hand on Vessels abdomen to calm them. vessels face is flushed as they gasp and shiver. “III..” vessel groans as they pet III’s hair as he stares up at vessel. “are.. are you going to pull off?” vessel asks, III just huffs a breath of air out of his nose as a way to say ‘not yet’. vessel tries to relax and wait out this till they are soft, they brush III nose bridge gently with their thumb “so pretty” Vessel whispers with a smile as he swallows causing vessel to hiss in sensitivity. III finally pulls off and smiles at Vessel as he lick his lips. III leans up and kisses Vessel, making sure they can taste themself on his tongue. once they pull away from each other “Good Morning” III smiles.

#sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii #sleep token vessel #iii sleep token #vessel x iii #vessel iii #iii #vessel i #vessel sleep token #smut #the duck can write

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1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess · 6 months

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I have been having this thot for a while

just imagine hoshi having a crush on cheol's gf, keeping it a secret from everyone, being hurt whenever he sees them together acting all lovey dovey with each other.

he knows that they love eachother but he cant help but think that if, what if it was him insted of cheol, loving u, kissing u, taking care of u, making love to u.

he didnt realize when his soft pure feelings for u turned into this intense passionate lust to make u his and his only.

having wet dreams about u two having this almost animalistic sex, he cant help but jerk off in the middle of the night.

oh....oh my.. the more i read on, the messier this got and yet i can't help but wish i found myself in a situation like this.... let me write you all the closest we'll get to this. and anon pairing: soonyoung x reader (indirectly) warnings: soonyoung is downright delulu for oc, shit ton of jealousy, fantasies of infidelity (fucking another man's girl), use of the nickname (sooyoo) and pet names (baby, sweetie, honey) NUMEROUS times, oc has size kink(loves how big sooyoo is, with that said...), dig bick soonyoung, "oblivious" cheol, lowkey not so humble bragger (loves letting everybody know 'you're his' type shit) cheol, jihoon & jeonghan feature, alcohol consumption, sorta subspace soonyoung??? (not proof read)

Open Arms - Kwon Soonyoung

soonyoung lazily turned the front door knob to his dark and cold apartment. The silence that enclosed him in the space made it all the more apparent that for yet another night, he was lonely and you were far from being his. the smell of his spirit-tainted clothes and mouth, clinging to him the way he'd hoped your body would've by the end of the night.

it's not that soonyoung wasn't happy for his friend seungcheol... actually, that's exactly what it was. he himself was taken aback by just how sincere-sounding his laughing along with everyone throughout dinner was, as you recalled how seungcheol had forgotten to transfer yours and his photos of your recent vacation from the disposable camera before he absent-mindedly threw it away this morning.

"well, excuse me, miss 'let's get a disposable camera to embody a true traveller's lifestyle' tsk" he pitched his voice a few octaves higher to mimic your statement from two weeks back. "ok bitch, first of all, I don't sound like that," you pinched seungcheol's cheek, leaving him scrunching his face in what the rest of the group members couldn't help but laugh off and interpret as pure agony "ow! damn what'd you pinch me for?" soonyoung rolled his eyes, "sickening..." he murmured to himself, dragging out a sip of his chilled bourbon, "and secondly, it's not my fault they haven't figured out a way to make 'em automatically transfer to your phone?! you'd know if what you had bothered to read the instructions token, mister" you playfully huffed.

"yeah, well, that'll teach us to never buy a two-dollar camera again. besides, I've got all those pretty pictures of you engraved in my mind" he chuckled, coming teasingly close to you, soonyoung with a frown less than containable, paying careful attention to the hand that danced its way around your waist from above the table. the hold on his glass visibly tightening, "ehem..." jeonghan pulled him from the boiler room of his thoughts. "you know, I never took you for the jealous kind." he jeered. "oh yeah? that obvious is it?" he placed his glass down on the table, the ice having burned his hand from how long it cupped it. "well, we've changed the conversation about three times and you've been staring at the...lack of a gap between cheol and y/n's waists for the past three minutes or so" his eyes now back to momentarily facing the place of general conversation, returning to see a ticked-off soonyoung. "c'mon aren't you of all people even a little grossed out by the excessive amount of pda right now?" he gestured his hand to the direction of yourself and seungcheol, who currently were giggling to yourselves about whatever seungcheol fucked up this time around. "I dunno, I think they're kinda cute" jeonghan teasingly knocked his shoulder against soonyoung's. he lived for the sole purpose of annoying his friends, and soonyoung was no exception. "I'm gonna go get some fresh air." he abruptly stood up from the table, all eyes now on him, a mix of unphased and all-the-more apparent confusion splashed across the table's faces. "everything alright, sooyoo?" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, glossy pillowy lips turned down all just the same. oh, how his heart ached and his ears perked all at once at the nickname. expression softening at your concern "just peachy!" a wide grin making its way unknowingly across his face, "let us know if you need anything bud." your boyfriend just couldn't help himself could he. always feeling the need to butt in and ruin things. the sweet gaze you'd bestowed him, he'd quickly tattooed in his mind, now turned bitter by cheol's genuine remark of concern. "will do." soonyoung thumbed up, not even turning to face cheol as he walked out the door.

"what was that about?" jihoon now sat adjacent to jeonghan, filling soonyoung's seat, "mmhhm," he shrugged, "something about bitter and sweet..." it had only occurred to him now as he replayed the night's events that he'd never actually turned back and had gotten all the way home. "fuck..." he muttered. too drained physically and emotionally to turn back and apologize for taking long, even though the bar was across the street. "what's that asshole have that I don't?" he thought, taking his shoes off before placing them on their spotlit shelf before hurriedly moving to the primary bathroom. now disrobing himself and hopping into the shower, the tension leaving his body as the steam fogged up the glass of the box and mirrors. he thought the anxiety had fully rid itself from him, only for it to creep back once he'd made his way out of the shower to see two notifications from you, one being a missed call. his mind raced, thinking of how upset or hurt you must've been for him to have walked out, judging by the time, he was almost certain dinner was long over by now. he hesitantly played the voice note, only to be pleasantly surprised with your honey-coated voice and the soft humming of the car. "hey sooyoo, you left your coat on your seat and you weren't back by the time dinner wrapped up so cheollie and I took your coat for you." a humph of satisfaction erupting from him but your boyfriend's nickname left a bitter taste in his mouth. "hey bud,' the male's voice interjected, blaring through the phone's speaker, turning the volume down in annoyance he continued to listen "y/n thought about dropping it off for you but we'll swing by tomorrow. i told her, knowing your rowdy ass, you're probably not even home yet so we figured we wouldn't bother you." he chuckled, to which soonyoung involuntarily rolled his eyes in distaste. "anyways sooyoo, drink some water and get some rest. we'll see you tomorrow around noon-ish... if you ever need anybody to talk to...I'm here." he was in agony. oh, how badly he wished you wouldn't speak to him as a mere friend, how he craved for there to be space to drop the formalities, so desperate for you that he'd let you speak to him wherever and however you wanted. he loved your cute voice, how it deepened a bit in your fits of rage, how raspy and raw he'd imagine it to be if you had chosen to spend the night with him. in all the apparentness of his loneliness, the closest he had to physical consolement being his silk pjs and his weighted blanket. their respective embraces only prompting him to shift deep into thought.

how he wished it were him instead of seungcheol whose arms you found solace in. how he wished you'd laugh at his jokes with nearly as much relish as you did your boyfriend's. how he wished you wouldn't have to enlighten him of your support of him, how if it was you and him, you'd be there with open arms, and without the exchange of a single word, he'd fall into them as you encasing him tightly with your plush arms. he yearned for your kisses peppering his face as tears rolled down his soft cheeks. he ached for your words of comfort.

"it's ok baby, i'm right here." you rubbed his head, pampering him with soft pats and rubs along his back. "I'm all yours, I promise." you spoke softly to him, not wanting to break the intimate bubble encasing the two of you. "mine?" he sniffled staring into your eyes, the eyes that only softened when they saw him. the eyes he got lost in frequently upon your encounters. wanting nothing more but to drown in your pupils. "mhm." you agreed with a soft smile which only ever melted his heart. you found yourselves in his bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed, angling your head to close the gap between the two of you "but what about seungcheol?" the feeling of jealousy now replaced with genuine concern "like I said baby, I'm all yours." hesitance soon forgotten as he leaned in, your lips even softer than that of what he imagined, hints of cocoa now smothered on his top lip from your gloss, not that he minded.

he was in ecstasy, the one person he ached for most in this world, was right in front of him. he'd long forgotten seungcheol whose obliviousness he chuckled at, as he replayed your words in his head "yours..."

soon after, your figure was sandwiched between his thighs. his towel licking a long stripe up his length, your doe eyes staring up into his through your B9 false lashes, too lazy from the night's festivities to remove your makeup, you summoned the remainder of your energy to make him feel special and feel special he did, the maintenance of eye contact sending a shudder along his spine. "you're so nice and big honey, " you tease, leaving a kiss on his tip, staining it with your lip gloss "can barely fit you in my hands, let alone my mouth." soonyoung's chest heaving in desperation at this point. you'd teased him for what had only been a mere 45-second interval but to him, resembled a century. "please baby, don't tease." the sight of his own tip flushed an angry pink tone, precum threatening to leak and splotches of your glittery lip gloss had him ready to explode.

"so impatient..." you slapped his thigh lightly, his abs flexing upon the sting post-contact. before he could get another word in, you sunk your mouth onto his length for the first time that evening. "oh fuck," the sight of you so eager to please him, and so abruptly too had him in a frenzy. "I knew your pretty mouth was good for more than just talking" the globs of spit that remained on the sides of his cock each time you glided up soon forming a pool at its base. you collected some and used it as lube to tug at the parts of him you couldn't fit. "just like that, sweetie" he praised you as your hand and mouth worked rhythmically in unison. the pet name had your pussy drooling. you were so cock-hungry, the portion of him you already had filling your mouth wasn't enough. you took it upon yourself to push yourself all the way down on him, nose touching his pelvic bone and his tip reaching the far back of your throat "fuck that's it, baby, fuck-, just like that sweetie" soonyoung was nothing short of a gentleman, he wasn't one to be a pusher but he couldn't help but to be eager. especially when you sucked him off so good.

tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the motion, you wanted your baby to feel good, judging by how his hitched breathing and whines got more audible, you were doing a great job. "fuck sweetie, I love you so much" the rambling mess he'd become was a clear indication he was close, a few more tugs of his cock and you had him cumming all over your pretty face. the sight made his cock twitch. being the freak he was, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, creamy white goodness and all.

the only thing stopping him was the sudden knock on the front door. pulling him into a void of post-nut clarity, allowing him to open his eyes to the pathetic sight of his empty, now un-fitted sticky bed sheet, with the only token of gratitude, he imagines you to have left him being a new stain on his favourite ivory satin sheet.

"well shit..."

AN: AHHHHHHH my first full length fic, fucking hell i'm so excited for you all to read this. like WHAT? I ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORK FOR ONCE (I'll definitely come back to proof-read my work in the morning and be like "what the fuck?"). to the person who mad this request. thank you so much my love, you;ve helped me regain my confidence and I'm so very sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you, I know you asked me in the early parts of this year and I just couldn't pull myself out of this slump. thank you and I hope you like it. much love to you all and keep requesting! xoxo, gossip girl... just kidding 1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess.

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the-gotheltic-rowan · 11 months

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Shuffle your “on repeat” playlist & post the first 10 songs and tag 10 people; tagged by @misery-milk 🫡

Anybody Out There - Young Mister

Aqua Regia - Sleep Token

After Dark (slowed to perfection) - tommyMuzzic, ZeddMusique

Barcelona - George Ezra

Now My Feet Won’t Touch The Ground - Coldplay

Lvl Insane - Jaroslav Beck

I Won’t Be Here - The Marcus King Band

Summer Sky / Baangpolskan efter Zackarias Baang - Frida Johansson, Henrick Oja

The Brightest Stars - Rogue Valley

Outta my Head - Khalid, John Mayer

Tagged: @cladnplaid @uhmmwhat @koroleva-nazyalensky @thatonebasicfan @nerdychristianfanboy @odessa-edmundson @heckin-music-dork @jackalope-in-a-storm @the-ritzy-raven @heathxledger @amberplatonic

also if I didn’t tag u and u wanna post songs consider yourself tagged and tag me so I can see the tunes worsties 👀

#I’m always ready to pounce on new music 🎶 drop the tracks fellas; also pls feel free to ignore the tag as well lol

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gasolineghuleh · 29 days

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Slated To Be

Wheee hello hello! This is the beginning of a commissioned series for a mortician male reader falling for Papa Copia.

This is chapter 1 of a 3 chapter set, with each chapter coming within a week of the last.

Enjoy!!

this was fun to write by the way, i miss doing autopsy

tw: descriptions of corpses and details of embalming

The instruments gleam and shine in their tray beside you, and sing in your hand-- you are the newly appointed mortician for the Emeritus Church of The Morning Star, and your first body rests in front of you, prone on the silvery slab. A Cardinal, it seems, if you were to make a guess based on the remnants of grease paint around his eyes. The Y-incision marking his chest was clean and concise, and you thanked yourself inwardly that you didn't have to repair some previous dolt's damage. Making the dead presentable for their last rites is difficult enough, and it irks you when someone further up the line doesn't do their job properly.

Your eyes scan over the face of the recently departed, noting the different pock marks in his cheeks and the dimples on the sides of his closed eyes. The black grease paint has stained a charcoal-tinged shadow around his eyes, leaving them sallow and drawn. His black hair is curled in an effort to bring volume to what was clearly thinning in life, and his patchy grey beard is meticulously combed and trimmed.

You start on the eyes-- you were hired to make the man appear as he did in life, and the eyes are one of the trickier things to do. Back in mortuary school you had dedicated hours to the art of paint and makeup, bringing the dead back to visit the living for one more fleeting moment.

Your eyes close and you exhale slowly, mentally preparing yourself to do what needs to be done.

"Now, Mister..." You pick up the name tag around his toe, reading it carefully. "Ah! Apologies, sir. Cardinal Tremaine, let's use your proper title, hm?" you muse to yourself, settling into the familiar ebb and flow of your job. His features are already set well enough for you to continue with the embalming, but you reach down to check his jaw wires and eyelid spikes anyway. Satisfied, you take another steadying breath and move down your mental checklist. The cart of embalming fluid rests nearby and you kick the pedal on the bottom of it, starting the flow of embalming fluid through the trocar that you placed earlier.

The hum and whir of the machinery is almost a calming sound, the way it transports you back to your schooling-- nothing but you and the corpses around you that you're meant to preserve as a token for the living. It's a type of witchcraft, the mortuary arts.

One that you take immense pleasure in.

"The soul migrates from body to body. Weapons cannot cleave it, nor fire consume it, nor water drench it, nor wind dry it..." You recite the lines easily, watching some of the color flood back into the cheeks of the deceased as the fluids do their work.

The air around you shifts suddenly, and you feel a presence enter the room with you.

"Can I help you with something?" Your voice is steady even as you don't look up from your charge. Footsteps sound from behind you as the person approaches, coming close enough to be within touching distance of your left shoulder.

"Scusi, I did not think you could hear me. Just observing. I have always been interested in this, eh? The previous mortician, he never allowed me to watch. But Cardinal Tremaine was a dear friend... a tutor." The man steps forward, joining you at the table and wincing slightly when he catches sight of the trocar in the abdomen. "It's a bit difficult to see him like this, but I felt that I must. He's the first to die under my reign... It felt correct to come and say goodbye."

"I see. And you are?" You clear your throat slightly, awkwardness of unexpected human contact rearing up. You have the feeling that your observer will be staying a little longer than you want.

"Ah, yes, my apologies. I'm Papa Emeritus... eh, the Fourth." He hurries to add his number, and you get the sense that he's not been in the position long. Still, you can't stop your eyes from going wide. Papa is here? The leader of the Church?

"A pleasure, of course. I, uh, well... I suppose this isn't a surprise to you, then." Your gaze goes from him to the body. "He's one of yours."

"One of ours." Papa's voice is stern, but soft. The implication speaks louder than the words do.

His correction sends a chill up your spine, but you nod and turn back to your work. The smell of formaldehyde is overpowering, but you revel in the sharp, pungent scent and push the cart to the side with your foot, flicking the pedal on and off, scrutinizing the shape of the former Cardinal's abdomen as it fills. There's another beat of silence while you work, agonizingly aware of your new company-- living, at that. Living company is something that has become more and more scarce as you dedicate yourself to your art. It's almost foreign now, but comforting.

"Did you, uh- did you know him?" you ask, attempting to make yourself sound conversational and not at all as nervous as you are. The fact that he's here uninvited is enough, but to have him walk in while you were talking to yourself is another thing entirely. A slight blush spreads across your cheeks and you're glad that you can turn to the body to hide it.

"Not well. He was one of the quiet ones." Papa leans in and tsks softly, sighing. "He was my biggest competition for Papa, you know." The surprise is enough for you to turn your head towards him, arching an eyebrow in invitation. "That got your attention, eh?" Papa smiles slightly under the grease paint on his face, a full skull, as befitting his position. You can see faint lines of a mustache under the white, and further lines that indicate smile marks. It's the first time you've properly seen him and you're immediately struck by the mismatched eyes. One is white and almost dead in appearance, but it's the one darting around your face, absorbing your features-- quick, and sharp.

"It's my job to tend to the dead, not to speculate." You give him a wry smile, hoping that the underlying message of "Do tell" was clear. Papa pauses for a moment to evaluate you, his two-toned gaze sweeping from your short cropped hair down to your shoes, your outfit curated perfectly to say 'Normal Guy'.

"Ah. Well, no speculation, then. I just sincerely hope he enjoyed his tea, hm?"

There it is.

The unspoken trust, founded only in a quick but strong connection and cursory glance.

Papa likes you.

Approves of you.

"I was the one who hired you, you know." Papa takes a step closer, leaning further over the body and brushing against your shoulder as he does. His voice is quiet, intimate. "On paper you sounded magnificent." He clears his throat, turning to look at you until you return his gaze.

"I'm glad," you manage to stammer out.

"Even more magnificent in person."

"I should-" The embalming machine cuts you off with a loud THUNK and you're almost grateful for the excuse. "-get back to work," you finish lamely. The machine's pedal has gotten stuck and you lean down slightly to adjust it, breaking the electric eye contact with Papa. The blood from the deceased Cardinal is almost finished filtering into a canister to the side. Papa clears his throat, giving you a tightlipped smile and stepping back slightly.

"Yes, yes of course, my apologies for disturbing you."

You know that he isn't sorry in the least.

"No matter, Papa. Never a disturbance."

"But, before I take my leave." You look back up at Papa as he moves forward, catching your eye again as he approaches. His gloved hands brush over yours, the warmth seeping through the material and doing nothing to ease the flush in both of your cheeks. The last time you were touched had been by accident in the dining hall a couple of weeks ago. "I'll send a Ghoul with an invitation for dinner sometime this week. I'd like to see exactly who I've hired here, hm?" The delicate arch of his brow takes you aback-- he's indirect, but it's enough to get the warmth stirring in your belly.

"I look forward to it." Small miracles persist, it seems, and your voice doesn't shake at all, despite your sudden nervousness at being propositioned by Papa. Or were you? You can't quite tell if he's coming on to you or just extending a friendly invitation to his quarters-- then again, you've never been the best at social cues.

In for a penny.

"Good. I would shake your hand but, eh..." Papa waves his hand towards your gloved ones, damp with chemicals and reeking of latex. "Perhaps later."

"A different time would be good. It was a pleasure, Papa."

"May Lucifer keep you. Until we meet again, amico." The warmth in his tone sends another shock to your core. He lingers for a moment more, watching you work before turning to leave the room. His footsteps fade slowly away down the hall of the basement, and you realize that you've been holding your breath. A slow and controlled exhale starts to relax your nerves until-

THUNK.

The embalming machine kicks itself off again, this time for good.

You make quick work of the rest of the job, embalming the rest of Cardinal Tremaine's body and doing some quick cleanup. His black robes fit him easily enough and you're able to dress the body with a quick and comfortable speed that only comes from repetition-- Papa truly did hire the right man for the job. The mortuary science degree had been expensive, but the career opportunity that it had afforded you is more than enough to pay the debts you racked up during the pursuit... especially now that Lucifer is footing the bill.

It's not until you're sitting in bed hours later, sipping from a glass of red wine in nothing but a pair of silk boxers that it truly hits you-- you were talking to Papa. The man in charge of everything. He hired you. You had never even seen the Fourth in the flesh and now he was coming on to you-- wasn't he? Quick as a flash, your brain replays the images of him leaning towards you, the slow blinking of his eyes and the tip of his tongue left on his lower lip. Your fingers fumble on your glass as you refill it, pouring too fast and nearly splashing it everywhere.

You're in too deep and he's barely done anything at all.

You huff out a sigh and run your hand through your hair, watching a lone droplet of wine as it rolls down the side of your glass. When it slips onto your finger you turn your gaze to the window, where the moon peeks through the trees beyond. The Abbey is comfortable enough, and your living quarters are directly above the basement level morgue, kept flush with the Ghoul dens. Your mind goes back to your first day, and the warnings of the tour guide to be careful after the Ghoul's dinner.

You've only been here for a few days, and the large castle that serves as the Abbey still feels alien and terrifying. The walls feel claustrophobic at times, and you swear that you're being watched whenever you leave your morgue. The previous mortician was consumed by a particularly overzealous Ghoul, and you had happened to be in the right place at the right time. The way you were hired was unconventional at best and now Papa is asking to see you for a "proper meal"-- alone...

"Satan help me," you mutter to yourself, swirling the wine in your glass and shaking your head, looking to the door of your bedroom that leads towards the den that serves as your office. You imagine for a moment that someone is listening and a chill goes down your spine at the idea that the walls truly are harboring secrets-- if the walls have ears, what will they overhear at your dinner with Papa? The Ghouls are bad enough-- the idea of some entity in the walls listening to you talk to yourself, or worse, Papa... that thought is almost unbearable.

It doesn't help that Papa is a looker-- that is, if you're into that kind of thing... which you are. He's not exactly what you were expecting, however, having your expectation formed by the rumors of the previous men of his stature. The former Papas you've heard tales about have been stately, austere. This Papa is young, energetic, and charismatic with a charm that oozes dangerously from every syllable that crosses his painted lips. The man's hair is as black as midnight and styled immaculately back-- if you had to make a guess you'd say it was dyed, and somewhat recently, although there were small pieces of gray in his sideburns. The dark eyebrows over the white of his paint and mismatched eyes is jarring and, you have to admit, somewhat beautiful in its own way. You can only imagine how he moves when he's underneath-.

A grumble leaves your chest at the mental image and you cut your train of thinking off hard, shaking your head to free yourself of the cobwebs of arousal that linger. You set your glass on the nightstand with a soft clink and sit down on your bed, resting your elbows on your knees as you look to the ground and contemplate the gravity of what could happen at your meeting. Would it be just a meal, or would it go farther? You don't dare to dream that far-- the fact that you have this job at all is more than you could have ever wanted.

Still, the invitation had been heavy in Papa's voice.

"It wouldn't hurt to hear him out... professional interest," you mutter to yourself as you lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The cool material of your sheets against your thighs is a welcome break from the heat in your belly that Papa had stirred, and your smallclothes do little to hide your problem. The Ghoul that you had received the tour from mentioned that you could summon any number of them at any given point and a thought settles in the back of your mind-- what would Papa say if he knew that you had summoned a Ghoul for your pleasure?

You shouldn't even be entertaining the thought.

Images pop up in your brain unbidden anyway.

You're alone, it's late, and you have an entire flock of Ghouls just downstairs at your disposal-- why not indulge a little? But... perhaps play it safe, and wait until after your meeting with Papa to call another bed-warmer.

He may even call you in less than a week.

#the band ghost fics #the band ghost ficlet #ghost bc fanfic #papa emeritus #lorraine writes #cardinal copia #copia #popia #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #papa 4 #era 4 #reader x papa #reader x papa emeritus #reader x copia

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tortoisesshells · 29 days

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Writing ask: 4, 7, 11, 16 & 18

4. ... with dialogue I'm proud of:

I've yet to find a character whose dialogue I've enjoyed writing quite as much as Jed Foster's. From the Mercy Street (but with vampires!) extended universe/pastiche/whatever -

“Are you this surprised when the rains arrive in April, Nurse Mary? Or, if I may dabble in plain Yankee with you, when the sap begins to run in March? We are in an army hospital. They send us, among other things, their dying.” “These men were not dying,” Mary insisted. “The difference between ailing and dying is a very thin one, then.”

7. ... that I nursed in a daydream before finally writing:

Ch. 21 of Customs and Duties was a weird one - I had it in mind for over two years before I got to it, but because it was, at heart, a chapter about imperfectly understood illness and quarantine I ... sort of lost heart for it, by the summer of 2022. Still, it's a turning point for Customs, and I had been looking forward to writing it.

Would she pick a fight with him, next? He supposed she might, though he was not inclined to give it to her. After a few moments of uneasy silence, Norrington took a risk and held out his hand for the pry-bar, and Elinor Treat reluctantly handed it to him. Without the tool she had been half-brandishing as a weapon, she seemed – exanimate. A puppet with its strings cut. The pry-bar felt damp in his hand, and he was unpleasantly surprised to find it had left red marks where he had taken hold of it: blood. Not his. “Mrs. Treat,” he said, very quietly and slowly, “Mrs. Treat, are you hurt?” “What? – oh. That.” Elinor Treat seized a kerchief from her pocket, and wrapped it around her hand. “I thought it had stopped bleeding days ago.”

11. ... with characters I want to write more in the future:

I miss Them (the cast of characters of potc). Here's from the last non-drabble I wrote for them.

Here, Elizabeth began to sift through her assets. It was a quick endeavor: a few dozen palm trees, a few dozen casks of rum, the damned pistol that Jack was guarding as though it were a token of a lover, the fire which was too small to even be seen clearly from the other end of her new home. In her great-grandmother’s time, when London burned nearly to the ground, the smoke could be seen from the surrounding counties as though it were a tower to the heavens – but she had not London to burn. That made lumber precious, didn’t it? Elizabeth had a brief, frustrated sense that she might have a better idea of how long she could keep the island ablaze if she had paid more attention to the consumption of fire-wood in her father’s household, but of late she’d shied away from the house’s accounts as though she could keep her future away likewise. She sized up the palm trees she did have, and, careful to be quiet, padded through the darkness to get a sense of how great around the trunks were – how long they might burn. If she were to set the island alight –

16. ... from a recent piece I want to brag about:

This is clever only to me, but, from nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace

"Her fingers were numb – centuries had changed many things about Collinsport, but the wind at Widows’ Hill was ever the same – bone-cracking, blood-chilling, cold. She struggled with the knot at her neck."

I cannot resist some foreshadowing - Vicki, the narrator, eventually is hanged (she gets better. mostly.) - hence the attention paid to the struggle with the knot at her neck. No one said anything about it when I posted, so I'm being annoying about it now. (there's also a point where Jeremiah quotes one of the first things his doppelganger in the 1960s said to Vicki, which clearly a man in the 1790s couldn't know anything about. surely.)

18. ... from that one WIP everyone has that has no plot, just vibes:

From my "Will Turner finds promotion to authority vastly overrated" post-AWE fic:

“The only deal I am prepared to offer you, Mister Beckett,” said Captain Turner, wearily, feeling as impatient as he ever had alive, “Is that which is available to all deceased souls. If that is of interest to you – see Mister Maccus, there. If not, get out my way.” Will didn’t look to see what choice Beckett made, and either his half-hour’s practice of the posture of authority or the dreadfully carved doors dissuaded any further complaints. The pipe-organ of the cabin seemed to be laughing at him.

send me a number and I'll send you an excerpt of my writing!

#thank you for the ask kind friend!#ask meme #polkaknox talks

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lukecastellanshandholder · 10 months

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It's thinking about Percico/ Nicercy hours tonight so I want to talk about an idea that I'm actually writing about in one of my many wips, but I wanna talk about NOW!

Imagine if everything would've gone wrong in the giant war. Percy, Annabeth, Hazel, Jason and Reyna end up dying in the war. Percy and Annabeth die closing the doors of death while the others die fighting Gaia. Leaving Nico alone, with no true pillar. He's heartbroken after Percy dies, full of guilt, hatred towards himself, anger towards the fates for taking away his one true love forever. Taking another important person away from him again. For making it where he couldn't protect Percy as he had promised himself that he would do years ago.

He takes that anger and heartbreak to the battle field and manages to help land the final blow on Gaia, with Jason's sacrifice and Leo's help as well. Just to find out that he had lost another sister and another person that he was starting to consider a friend.

Everything leaves Nico numb. He feels like he has nothing and no one else to lose because... He honestly didn't. Not anyone that he truly cared about.

So when the gods offer Nico Godhood as a token of their appreciation, he doesn't turn them down. He saw it a fitting punishment, one that would last an eternity, one that he would spend alone.

He becomes a death god, the god of heroic deaths. And wasn't that just ironic.

He doesn't ever think about taking any kind of lovers, because no one would ever compare to the one that he truly loved. Besides, he didn't deserve any happiness, at least that's what he thought. He let all of his loved ones die, why should he be the one alive and happy. If anyone deserves those things, they were Percy and the others.

Even with his newly acquired God hood, Nico was never able to track down the souls of his friends. It seemed that they had all chosen rebirth. He had resigned himself to never seeing them again and moved on.

It was a good 100 years after the Giant war that something happened. Nico was out in the city, walking aimlessly as he tended to do when he wasn't really busy. He stopped at a park, a big water fountain in the middle with the sun shining off of the water and looking to form rainbows. The sound of the water rushing and gurgling. Water. It reminded him of-

"Hey mister, are you ok?"

Nico raised an eyebrow and looked over to his right. It wasn't often that mortals acknowledged or even saw him, so he was a bit surprised that a kid had come up and talked to him.

When he got a good look at the kid looking up at him, he felt everything stop.

There was a power that came with him being a death god, he was not only able to see a person's soul, but he was also able to see the lives that a single soul had lived just by looking into their eyes.

The first thing he saw were green eyes that resembled the color of the ocean, what followed was a tsunami of memories from a past life that was full of so much pain and tragedy. One that was cut way too short. A past life that Nico himself was a part of.

The past life of Percy Jackson.

Nico could only stare at the young boy that stood in front of him. The boy had the same color eyes as Percy and they looked similar, but he did look different compared to his Percy. So much lighter, not burdened with trauma from the past unlike Percy had been.

But Nico had found Percy's soul, or moreso it seemed to have found him.

Nico barely registered another voice calling from across the park until the boy looked over to a friendly looking man who Nico could only assume was the boys father. "Sorry, mister. I have to go. But... Make sure to take care of yourself, ok? Promise me."

Nico blinked and nodded his head numbly. The boy just smiled at him brightly before running over to his father and hugging him tightly before they walked away.

Nico didn't know how long he stayed rooted in that one spot, staring at the empty spot next to him where the boy had been standing.

'Promise me'

Nico could hear that phrase flowing through the wind in the voice of someone he had never and never would be able to forget. Someone that he would spend the rest of his immortal life thinking about. Someone he couldn't keep his promise to.

Nico's knees buckled, causing him to fall to his knees in front of the fountain in the park. The rushing sound of the water covered the sounds of Nico's sobs. Emotions that he hadn't let out ever since he was a mortal, were now falling from his eyes and into one of the puddles on the ground below.

#this is just pure angst #i'm just in a silly goofy mood #and in my feelings #angst #percico #nicercy #god nico

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fivewholeminutes · 4 months

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I would like to formally apologise to mr vessel sleep token the first for making fun of him for constantly losing his tassels. After 2-ish weeks of having one attached to my phone i have realised they are extremely fragile and easy to lose. I will never make fun of sir mister vessel sleep token the first for this ever again.

#i cannot promise the same when it comes to the unironed cloak #anyways the tassel is now fixed and securely hanging from my shelf i cannot lose it it was a gift from thevenomousseprent 🥺🥺🥺#sleep token #worshitposting

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ghu-leh · 6 months

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🎃spotify on repeat tag game!🎃

Shuffle your “on repeat” playlist & then post the first 10 tracks, then tag people!

Thank you @copias-sewer-rat and @youwouldntlietopapa for having me in mind for this tag!💚(you both have exquisite music taste!)

Ritual - Ghost

Granite - Sleep Token

I'm Not Afraid - Emigrate, Cardinal Copia

Pana - Usted Señalemelo

The Summoning - Sleep Token

Black Summer - RHCP

Stadium Arcadium - RCHP

Stand By Him - Ghost

Resigned - Blur

Satan Prayer - Ghost

Tagging my fwiends♡: @mister-girl @conjuring-ghouls @clamcastle @jossambird @ghoulangerlee @youareillogical (kisses to all of you! - and no pressures ofc!)

#tag games #ghuleh talks #So I know I said I don't get ST but I connected with like 4 songs from their album #and i listen to those so... so often...#also can you tell I love Opus...

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coldfanbou · 1 year

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TIAM IS Side Stories: Missing You

The second side story for the week. Please enjoy. Also this was the closest picture to what I was looking for.

Everyone sat in the living room, nearly everyone anyway. As you had returned from the trip to Japan, you felt happy knowing Mina would be returning sometime in the future. There was something that worried you all, though; it was the question of when she would return. You all went silent when Tzuyu brought it up.

“Do you think Mina be back in time for Christmas?” was her question.

“Don’t you think the twins miss their mom?” Chaeyoung says. You feel a little hurt at her saying this. Everyone else glares at Chaeyoung, and realizing what she said; she backs away into the kitchen.

After a few moments, you respond, “I don’t know when she’ll be back, but she said she’ll be back soon, so I hope she comes back in time.”

“She’ll be back. She wouldn’t miss the kid’s first Christmas.” Jihyo says as she pats your back. You felt the worst about this, considering you were the one that drove her away initially.

“Yeah, she’ll be back in time,” Dahyun chimes in.

“Thanks, but I’m still worried. I mean, it’s the kids' first Christmas; Hina and Ari should be with their mom.” You look over at the twins and Jisoo, who sit in front of the Television watching videos as you all discuss when Mina will return.

“You’re worrying too much; Mina wouldn’t be the type to miss her kid's first Christmas. Plus, you said it yourself she’ll be coming home soon. So cheer up, mister; we have lots of work left to make sure everything is perfect then.” Jihyo says with a playful tone at the end. Motherhood had certainly solidified a sense of confidence within Jihyo. You were grateful for that; Jihyo was your rock.

You smile at her, “Yeah, you're right; we have a lot of work left to do.”

Chaeyoung comes back with a glass of strawberry milk for you, a token of her apology. “Sorry for what I said; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“It’s fine, Chaeyoung,” is all you say in response. You could always get her back later.

A familiar song plays on the television. It was Merry & Happy. As the members hear it begin, they sing along to it, giving you and the children a little show. They look at the members and clap; their attention is drawn to them. Jisoo scurries to Jihyo, who picks her up and holds her tight. She always enjoyed hearing her mother sing. The happiness is cut short. Soon enough comes Mina’s small part. “♪Jingle bells ring, a peal of bells/ How can they sound so differently♪” When the twins hear Mina’s voice, they turn back towards the television and see their mother on the screen. It had been months since they had heard her voice or seen her at all. They cry and reach out toward Mina for the brief second she’s there. When the scene cuts to another member, their cries grow louder. You rush over to them and try to calm them down. You pick up Hina as Sana takes Ari. You both try to calm them down to no avail. Hina was quicker to cry, but you didn't expect Ari to cry too. She rarely did.

“What’s wrong, Hina? Why are you crying?” As the screen flashes to Mina, Hina and Ari reach their small hands toward her. You catch on to this quickly, telling Jihyo, “It’s Mina; they see Mina on the screen and want her.” Jihyo quickly switches to something else, but the twins continue crying. It pains your heart to see that they miss their mother so much. All the reassurances that the members had given you earlier disappear as you try to calm down the crying children. “It’s okay, Hina; your mama will be back soon. She’ll…” You grow silent as you continue to try and get them to stop. You look down at Hina and see how much pain she’s in without her mom; you stop moving as you hold Hina tightly. “I’m sorry, Hina, Ari. I’m sorry.” Tears start to form in your eye as you apologize to your children for driving their mother away.

“Hand her to me; you try to find something to calm them down.” You hear Nayeon say as she stretches out her hand, waiting for you to hand Hina over to her. Nayeon’s solemn expression also has a silent worry for you behind it. You’re reluctant to let go of Hina but hand her over in the end. The endless crying grows quieter as you walk into Mina’s room. It’s still the way she left it; all the changes she had made to the room so she could care for the twins were evident. You look around for anything that could calm them down. When you look toward the bed, you're flooded with memories of all the times you and Mina would talk about how the children would be when they were born. You start to go through drawers finding old clothes that the twins had long since grown out of. You see pictures and small memories go by as you go through the rest of the drawers. In the final one, two baby blue penguins Mina had crocheted lay on top of a pile of clothes. Gently you pick them up and think about how much time Mina had put into making these for Ari and Hina. They still smell like Mina, which given how long she worked on getting them just right, made sense.

As you walk back to the living room, penguins in hand, you see the members struggling to quiet them down. You walk to Nayeon's side and hand Hina one of the penguins. It takes a second, but Hina’s small hands get a death grip on the penguin. She gives it a bear hug and refuses to let it go; slowly, her cries grow quiet as she holds on to the penguin for dear life. You do the same for Ari and get a similar result. The twins grow quiet and hold onto the penguins that Mina had made for them long ago. You suspect it was the fact they still smelled like Mina that Ari and Hina grew calm. The twins must’ve also been tired soon after their crying ended; they fell asleep, still clutching at the penguins.

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windupnamazu · 8 months

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like the hands on the clock, they'll go in circles back to their places

ffxivwrite2023 #06: ring a small circular band [...] worn on a finger as [...] a token of marriage.

Lunya/G'raha. Endwalker finale. 1143wc. Content warnings: kinda gorey descriptions? ⮞ Fourteen years ago, a little girl learned something from the man who would give his life for hers.

"Mister Kichirou," Yeyema began, tugging at the sleeve of her guardian's haori as they traipsed down Ruby Road Exchange together, the old man's steps slowed to keep pace with the young girl's smaller ones. "Why's your ring got so much aether in it?"

Kichirou's face lit up with delight as they drew to a stop at the intersection of the road and Emerald Avenue. "You can sense it, little moon? That is my wedding ring—it's filled with my late husband's aether. It is all I have of him now."

"Oh." She looked upon the ring and its crystal setting with a new kind of sympathy and curiosity. "It feels like there's almost enough aether in there to make a whole person."

Her grandfatherly guardian laughed, but it sounded kind of sad. "That's because there is—he passed before we finished the full transfer. Maybe if we had done it sooner he could have been healed." He chuckled more when she tilted her head cutely. "The rings were a failsafe, of sorts. Were one of us gravely injured, we could return each other's aether back; a unique token of love, trusting another with our life literally in their hands."

"You can really do that? Transferring that much aether into such a little thing?"

"There are many old spells lost or forbidden to modern mages," Kichirou told her, in that mysterious tone he oft used when she tried to poke too much at his life before Eorzea. "If you're truly curious, I will tell you of its fundamentals later. But first, shall we pick up your snack from Momodi-san?"

"Cookies, please!"

They don't expect the first of their missing Warriors to return in the state that she does.

The teleportation spell releases her on the floor of the Ragnarok with a whisper of wind and a flash of light that draws the attention of all the waiting Scions on the ship. G'raha Tia is the first to his feet at the sight of white like starlight, a wail erupting from his mouth when he takes in the state of his wife. Majj and Einar join the chorus.

Uncountable bruises bloom like twisted flowers across Lunya's face and upper body, the light of her freckles dimmed like clouds smothering the stars, but most concerning and terrifying of all is a vicious gash nearly splintering her in twain from her shoulder to opposite hip, blood seeping through the pearl sheen of her coat and black lace barely containing her insides. Her breath is so shallow it's hardly there at all as her twilight and crystal eyes gaze blankly into nothingness, and her white hair spills across the steel floor drenched in her crimson.

"NO!" G'raha's voice breaks as he falls at her side, hands glowing with healing magic even though a voice at the back of his mind tells him it's for naught. Never before had she come back to him in such a grievous state; of all the men and monsters she's faced, only one managed to strike a blow to her in this way, and Meteion hadn't said she and the others were left with him.

"Focus, G'raha," Y'shtola orders in a soothing but stern meter, but even her hands are shaking as she pushes aether into the open cavity of Lunya's chest, coaxing sinew and skin back together as fast as she can as Theodaux redirects organs where they need to be. Alphinaud and Ahnji hover; they can't expend all their healers at once when there are still Warriors yet to return, no matter how much G'raha wants to beg them to help her or how much they want to help themselves.

"It isn't enough," warbles Theo, sweat beading on his forehead from exertion as he leans against his staff. "There's too much to replace and she's losing what's left fast."

"Short of a whole person's worth of aether, I am not sure what we can do," Fleuriri murmurs, resting a hand on the Elezen's shoulder. "And seeing as she's already received a full foreign transfer once, I can't say how her body might handle another attempt."

Gods. He wants to cry. To kick and scream and curse and tear apart the universe for trying to take her from him. G'raha scratches groves into his wrist, a nervous habit turned frustrated, but as his fingers slide down to his wrist he remembers.

"Her aether," he says desperately, turning to Y'shtola. He pries off his wedding ring, crystalline and glowing, and shows it to her. "I have her own aether—enough to make a whole person, she said. The spell she used wasn't anything we know."

Y'shtola's eyebrows shoot into her bangs as she regards it before settling in grim determination.

Lunya blinks pitch night and stars from her eyes to find the ceiling of the Ragnarok. The twins are the first thing she sees after; Alphinaud has a steady stream of healing tethered between her stomach and his nouliths and Alisaie is pacing back and forth, muttering furiously to herself. The second thing she sees has all the residual fear she hadn't realized she was holding onto drain from her body in a heartbeat—her husband is crying, which won't do at all, and she fights against the heavy weight of her body to raise a hand to his face.

"My lodestar," her Raha weeps, grabbing her hand in his and pressing it to the curve of his cheek.

Voice creaking, she wonders, "Is everyone all right?"

"You're the last person who should even ask," G'raha huffs, but he smudges away the tears at the corners of his eyes and squeezes her left hand in his own. Distantly, she notices she's not in her robes anymore, bandages winding around her chest and stomach instead. Her husband's covered in blood that can't be his own and his wedding ring is gone and Y'shtola is across the room downing mana potion after mana potion, swaying in place as Majj does his best to steady her. She gets the feeling she knows exactly what they did.

"Thank you, sinta ko," she murmurs. "I'm sorry."

"Don't."

The ship explodes in a flurry of sound as another Warrior arrives in a haze of pink fur and blood and the others rush over to administer emergency healing yet again, but to G'raha and Lunya they sound a million miles away when he kisses her brow before pressing his own to hers.

"I would do anything for you," he reminds her. "I gave you my life just as you gave me yours, so I'll remind you a million times if I must. Just—live for me, Lunya. Don't apologize—just never do that to me again."

"I promise," she says, twisting his engagement ring around his finger. They'll have to make him a new wedding ring now. "And that is one I truly intend to keep."

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #oc: lunya #g'raha tia #s: let me find you #there is no gpose today because the wifi at the new house is SHIT and i dc'd four times trying to take one #so all we get is this lousy placeholder header!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#do you think one day ill remember to write down kichirous lore so it doesnt change everytime i think abt him :pleading:#another day of not liking my writing but also i AM moving which is exhausting #update!! i made the header :')

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drzootsuit · 1 year

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Half life 3’s credits roll. Earth is free, and even if the combine are not defeated, assurance and comfort is found in the fact that Earth is simply too insignificant to truly draw their gaze again.

As the credits go by, we are treated to a series of images showing the rebuilding of life on the new free earth. Specifically, Scenes of Gordon, Alyx, Shepherd, John, and the others with whom they formed a found family over the course of the third game, all working together to construct a communal home and plant fields of vegetables.

And then the credits end.

Darkness.

Soon, Gordon wakes up.

Remaining in first person perspective, we see Gordon rise, pawing for his glasses and slipping them on.

At long last, he’s out of the HEV suit, clad in an ordinary tshirt.

It’s very early. The sun is only just rising. He’s up before everyone else.

He gets dressed, and wanders downstairs, giving us a look at the home everyone has made. Scavenged but restored furniture, photos of the celebration after the final victory, the crowbar over the mantle…

The stillness of being the only one awake.

Gordon cracks open the instant coffee can and stirs up a mug, taking a moment to take in the view out the window. The sun is rising gorgeously over the fields, and we know it’s over a planet that has seen the last of outside interference.

Gordon turns back around, and there, on the threadbare red sofa, is the G-man.

Gordon doesn’t react. He merely takes a drink from his coffee. His visitor supplies a polite nod.

“Hello there… Mister Freeman. I am glad to see you are comfortable.” The man in the suit offers the most natural smile he is capable of.

“All is well that ends… well, as they say. I almost regret that this will be the last time we will ever meet.”

He rises from the sofa, briefcase in hand. Posture straight, he gestures with his free hand to a hinged wooden box on the table.

“My employers are… most satisfied with the performance. From all of you. Things have all ended according to their designs. But it would have been impossible without your cooperation.

As a token of their gratitude, I am at liberty to offer you this.”

The air begins to shimmer, as time and space fray apart and warp. The G-man turns, ready to slip away, out of reality.

Gordon says nothing, but he offers him a solemn nod. Thank you.

The G-man nods back. Thank you too.

And then he’s gone. Never to be seen again.

Gordon will often think about him, as will the others who have met him, but none of them will ever have anything resembling an answer as to who he was, or what he represented.

But they do have the box.

Gordon sets his coffee down on the windowsill and crosses the living room, lifting the box. It doesn’t seem that heavy.

His fingers run across its lid, as if feeling for anything out of the ordinary. But it’s ordinary wood.

He opens it.

Inside is a rusted and weathered six-shooter, chamber removed to make way for a spool of copper wire. Duct tape and random electronics cover it.

Cut to black.

The end.

#Half life #gordon freeman #g man #fanfic #abject silliness

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