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immajustvibehere · 5 months

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Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow. I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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ilovejosukehigashikata · 2 months

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Do you have any art of gent? I'm curious to see what he looks like

GOD i've been letting this ask languish in my box for months i'm SORRY!!! so the truth is... i am Not An Artist. i Cannot make the beautiful handsome man in my head real on paper even though i really really try. BUT i'll put down some bullet points about how he looks so you can hopefully get a feel for him!! and also i made a giant pinterest board for him if you want to check that out

style-wise:

i've invented a whole new family for gent that's stylistically frozen in the 1700s in quite a few ways, and this reflects in his design--he's got this Fancy Rococo Prince energy mixed with traditional ainu clothing (he's ainu now heehee... i'll have to give him a proper ainu name, gent is short for regent and it's really more of a nickname/title than anything)

he's got this giant lion motif that's mostly expressed in his hair... gone is the pomp (although i think he still has something strongly resembling one in the front) and instead he's got this Gorgeous Curly Mane that's dyed dark brown and blond

also i think he's got sideburns because 1. it's the 70s and 2. it'll make him look a little more masculine in a Fun Way

i figure he's got the attushi robe over all the frilly stuff, possibly in black and gold, and some moreu (whirl) motifs can look a lot like stylized lion manes so it works great for him

his color scheme is all golds and pinks, and since his thing is candy he's sure to have some silly candy-looking bits somewhere

he's got a funny little fur capelet just like prince's here... i guess he's REALLY prince-influenced in style

his more casual looks (if you can call them that) are still pretty fancy-shmancy peacock revolution stuff, just comfier

body-wise:

gent does whatever he wants and has (had) more money and resources than god, so everything besides (parts of) his head, spine, and tail is swappable---he likes to play around with how he looks, so he doesn't exactly have a set body type

yes he has a tail. yes it's got an elaborately curled tuft that he takes care of like the hair on his head. no he doesn't have the ears that'd be too silly and nobody would take him seriously, he just styles his hair to look like lion ears if you squint sometimes

his favorite might be the kind of idealized look of takarazuka's otokoyaku, with the disguised curves and stuff like that, and this reflects in the makeup he likes to put on (another prince-y aspect, he likes wearing a little bit of pink eyeshadow)

sometimes he likes to just run around looking exactly like a cute girl just for fun, but the only pronouns he'll ever use are he/him

skintone-wise he's naturally tan, and he might have a freckle here or there...

he's got body hair levels closer to (or above) westerners than japanese people, but he only rarely has a tiny bit of facial hair (beards are more his dad's thing)

face-wise:

this is definitely the hardest thing for me to figure out without having reliable drawing ability, but i'm forming a decent picture of it in my head

he has double-lidded, hooded eyes like josuke, but his are brown instead of blue

he's definitely got some bit of puffiness and/or darkness under his eyes that can either be played off in that cute way or in the I Haven't Slept For 24 Hours Because I've Been Making A Perfume/Candy/Entire Sentient Being That Will Blow Your Tits Clean Off way

of course he's still got the :-} smile. you can't drop that or he loses the josuessence

his eyebrows are thick but don't have that sharpness or model-like angling that josuke's did, they're pretty horizontal in a way that can make him look Mildly Concerned in his resting expression

i'm really enamored by shizuka kudo's eyebrows in how they have that effect combined with the undereyes

i think his jaw is what he mainly gets gender presentation across with, and it's still usually a fairly masculine one, so it's more likely for people to assume he's just a flamboyant guy and not a very princely girl

SO yeah i can ramble and ramble about how he looks but that probably won't do a bunch for you, hopefully this still helps you somewhat! my biggest influences in making him besides josuke were two other characters voiced by the late and great billy kametz, maruki from persona 5 and ferdinand from fire emblem three houses! it's about their Serene Energy... it's about how much they Care being expressed in their faces and their eyebrows... THANKS FOR READING!!

#gent #long post

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justxright · 3 years

Text

Zeke Yeager x Reader “Traitor”

Chapter 1 - “Tell me, What is that Weapon called?”

Note : Minor Spoilers! Especially if you haven’t watched Season 2, Involves upcoming deaths and characters from season 3. Involves a bit of Stockholm syndrome.

You stood there on top of the roof by the chimney of the creaky old run down house, staring into the distance in horror.

A titan completely covered in fur with obnoxiously long arms seemed to be taking a stroll in front of you. It paid no mind to you or the man next to you.

“W-What is that thing?” You murmured under your breath, your blades trembling in your palms.

The man next to you spoke rather calmly as his face showed otherwise. “I think it’s abnormal... but I’m still worried about it. Without a horse we’ll have to wait it out here until someone comes by.”

You started back at Miche who had spoken and your eyebrows scrunched up in concern. “It looks over 17 meters tall, and I’ve never seen a titan covered in fur...”

Miche scoffed and patted your back as if everything were okay. There were practically titans surrounding your every exit and the only thing the both of you could do is wait for help. “If anything Captain Levi will come. He’ll always come for you no matter what. If anything were to happen to you, gods help all the Titans.”

You snickered at the light hearted joke and just rubbed your temples. It was true though. Both you and Levi were practically siblings and raised together by Kenny Ackerman. However, as you two grew older, you practically ran a good part of the underground city. Nobody dared to fuck with either of you.

“Oi, (Y/N) lighten up, your brother will come for you don’t worry.” Miche patted your back again, and before you could grab it and twist it, the both of you heard the sound of a horse nearby. Thank god, you wouldn’t have to wait until nightfall or for help.

Miche watched carefully as the horse began to come closer and closer. You then began to prepare everything and make sure you didn’t leave much behind. However, before either of you could move another muscle, the sound of a squealing horse froze the both of you. The horse had been picked up by the titan you and Miche were looking at earlier. The titan’s long hairy arms took aim toward the both of you and chucked the horse in that direction.

“Ah-!” You screeched and ran for cover and gripped the edge of the chimney. The sound of rattling bricks and a squealing horse filled the air. Did that titan just throw a horse at us?!

Fortunately you were still on the roof, but the sound of falling bricks and a dying horse wasn’t the only thing you heard. It was that familiar stomping. Like an earth quake, only more terrifying. You looked down to see that Miche had been caught by a titan, desperately trying to squeeze him into its mouth as it chomped away.

“(Y/N)! Help!” He screamed in agony as his own blood gushed from the Titans mouth. “No, no! Stop!” He continued to yell and cry out. The sounds and cries for help were all too familiar and before you could spring into action, you take another look around you and freeze. There it was. There was that titan right in front of you.

“Wait...”

Huh?! You stood there dumbfounded and the titan that was just chomping away at Miche had stopped. Did it just talk?! No, did it just command another titan?!

The air grew silent and it was if everything had stopped. But you knew it wasn’t going to stop. Things just escalated so quickly that you were sure you were making this up in your head.

The giant fur covered titan had squatted down in front of Miche and just seemed to stare at him for a good minute. It seemed as if it knew Miche was going to die, and it knew Miche was in complete utter fear. You just stood there and shivered. What could you do? You weren’t like Levi. Hell, you aren’t even related by blood. You just have his last name, and at this moment you didn’t even feel like an Ackerman. You didn’t even feel worthy of the name.

The smaller titan that had Miche in its mouth began to chomp away again, blood gushing onto the grass. This seemed to set the beast-looking titan off.

“Huh? Didn’t just say to wait?” The beast titan took its hand around the smaller titan and crushed its head open. This alone set Miche free from its mouth.

You stood there shivering as the beast titan took a look at its own hand, and then in your direction. Even though you were on the roof you felt unsafe. Regardless if you were on higher ground. It just stared at you. As if it were thinking extra carefully for a long minute before it turned its head back to Miche. “Tell me, what is that weapon called?” It said in it deep monotone voice. “The thing on your waist that flies around.”

But Miche only sat there, squealing and crying in pain. Pure fear is what filled him and from your point of view it was like he was staring death in the face. The beast titan then scratched its head and spoke once more. “I’m certain we speak the same language. Perhaps you’re simply too frightened.” He then turned to face you and then looked down to your swords that have fell off the roof while you clinged onto the chimney edge to avoid falling to the ground. “Oh, I see you use swords too. I guess that mean you know we reside in the nape.”

Falling to your knees you cried. This is the part where Levi would come and rescue you. You knew you were just as skilled and just as dangerous, but you were no where near as brave as he was. The only difference is that Levi didn’t fear death. Levi doesn’t care much about living, but you so desperately wanted to know what else was out in the world. You still feared death.

The beast titan then turned its attention away from you and back at Miche. “Ah, well, I’ll just take it back with me.” Its long arms then began to stretch out towards him and it’s hands extended open as he reached for his gear. Miche cried out and laid onto the grass defeated, ready for the titan to pick him up and eat him? Toss him? No, the titan simply pulled off his ODM gear and when it looked like it was leaving for good, it came towards you.

Your pretty eyes filled with tears and your hair began to blow in your face from the air as you cried out for Levi. The titan had looked you in the eye and grinned. “What about you darling? Can you speak?” He then held out the ODM gear in front of you. “Could you tell me how this works?” It asked rather politely, but now you were put on the spot as Miche once was.

“I-I...” Was the only thing you could mutter. The titan only frowned and let out a loud sigh of disappointment. “Ah, I see. What a shame...” It then began to walk away slowly but surely, he was beginning to leave you alone again. What made it even better was that the other Titans that were surrounding the house seemed to stay still when they were commanded to wait.

At least it was better, but only for a moment. You turned your head to see Miche break the silence, spewing some bullshit about fighting for humanity and such, before trying to take on this titan Mikasa style. The beast titan then turned its head around ever so slightly and grinned. “You can move now...”

And at that very moment, all Titans at every angle that surrounded the house came stomping towards Miche, ripping him apart and eating away at his flesh and he shouted your name for help.

You covered your ears at shouted at the beast titan. “Wait! I’ll tell you everything!” You cried desperately, but you knew Levi couldn’t save you this time and you knew that under this titan was just another human. Survival was the only thing on your mind. “Please anything! It’s called an ODM gear! It helps us fly with gas- it-it we use it to accelerate us into the air!” A very vague description, but you were panicking and hopefully that would be enough to satisfy the titan.

The titan turned back around slowly and made its way towards you. It then extended its arms out and its hands pulled off your ODM gear, and threw it aside. “So you can talk?” Its giant smile crept across it’s face as it held out its giant hand in front of you.

You only stood there before it, contemplating if this was all worth it. How were you a hundred percent sure this was going to guarantee your survival? Before you could think any further, the titan grew impatient, and simply grabbed you. “Hey!” You yelped and held into its hand desperately as it began to lift you from the rooftop. Even though you’ve been flying through the air before, you just had your wings clipped. There was no ODM gear that could save you now, and definitely no buildings and trees around to ensure your survival from the fall. The beast titan then lifted you up near the crook of its neck, gesturing for you to hold on.

You did as told, and you watched as he began to walk towards his destination. Passing through the trees and the untouched land that humanity never got to explore outside the walls, It felt was if you were up in the sky flying. You could see the whole world and the horizon. Not just from the top of the walls, but on a titan that was moving. After all, you were several meters into the air and you weren’t using your ODM. Too busy gazing at the horizon and the landscape, you didn’t realize how much time had passed. Before you knew it, you had arrived at wall Maria, in the Shiganshina district.

“Hold on...” the titan growled and began to slam its hands into the wall. Quickly, without hesitation you grabbed onto the fur of the titan and held on as you went further up into sky. It’s climbing the wall? You were completely dumbfounded and before you knew it you were on the top of the wall. Then suddenly steam began to burst out of the titan’s neck. It took you by surprise and you immediately started climbing down from the titain’s arm.

As the person emerged from the titan, you did your best to study their features. Blonde beard and hair, glasses and well- shirtless. It was a man and the moment he emerged from the titan, he immediately started looking for you. It’s not like you could run or escape, so you just stood there until he spotted you standing there on the walls. You both made eye contact for a moment before he climbed off his titan and approached you. He then picked up the ODM gear in the hands of his titan and pointed to the box behind you. “Take a seat” the man said ratherly nicely.

You didn’t even notice the camp that was set up on the wall due to the complete shock you were in. Three little tents and a small fire pit was set up along with a couple wooden boxes. The man then brought up some rope and a knife from one boxes before suddenly pointing the knife at you. “Now, don’t be difficult and hold out your hands. This is only a precaution in case you do something... well, stupid.”

Anything to survive, anything to survive. The only determination you had was to get back to Levi and Hange. With all the information unraveling in front of your eyes, this could surely help humanity unfold the mystery of the world beyond the walls. You took a huge gulp and held out both of your hands as the man began to wrap them around in rope tightly. You hiss at the tight pain around your wrist, causing the man to only chuckle. “Oh don’t worry now, this isn’t enough to bruise your pretty skin.” Your cheeks suddenly burned out of being flustered. What’s this guys deal?!

After the man had completed tying your wrist you slowly sat down without breaking eye contact while the man sat across from you. His piercing dull grey eyes didn’t leave your face as he held up the ODM gear in front of him.

“Now then, be a doll and explain how this weapon works or face the consequences.”

Taken back by so many questions you had, you only blinked a couple times and looked away. “I- Well...”

“Oh forgive me! Where are my manners? We must introduce ourselves.” The man scoffed and chuckled to himself lightly before pulling out a box of cigarettes. “I am War Cheif Zeke Yeager.” He the put the cigarette between his lips and lit it. A cloud of smoke and the smell of nicotine filled the air as your face showed physical confusion. Yeager? ...

You knew it wasn’t common at all for people to have the same last name, but you couldn’t exactly jump to conclusions. No way they could be related, you nor Eren haven’t even seen this guy before in your entire lives. There was no way this man was from the walls.

Zeke suddenly let out an annoyed grunt. “Ahem... I’m trying to be patient here. It’d be a shame if I had to hurt your pretty face.”

Your heart suddenly started beating two times faster and you let out your response as fast as you could. “Oh! I- I’m (y/n) Ackerman...” you whimpered and your face trying to show was much bravery as you can. This seemed to get Zeke to grin brigger than it had been before.

“Well (y/n) here’s the plan. You are going to tell me everything on your side of the story. I want to know their plans, and how much you all think you know about Titans.” He spoke through the cigarette in his mouth and began to light the fire pit while the sun began to set.

“W-What? I thought you just wanted to know about the weapons we use?” Your heart started beating again, but this time in fear. Fear that he’d never let you go and you’d never find a chance to escape this man.

Zeke placed what looked like a metal pot over the fire and began to boil the substance inside of it. “Well, yes indeed you will tell me about the weapons you use. I’ll admit it is an extremely clever invention, but you will also tell me everything else and everything I want to know. Understand?”

You nodded this time without hesitation and gave him your best convincing face of loyalty. “Okay, I understand...”

To survive and get back to Levi. Survive and Escape when given the chance.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Zeke’s face only haunted you more as the sun went completely down, the only thing lighting up his face to be viable was the glow of the fire.

However, as his face haunted you, he thought of yours as profoundly beautiful. The glow of the fire reflecting from your face was just too much for him. There was no way he could tear his eyes away from your face. Perhaps he liked the way you teared up, or the way you you gently spoke to him after he had captured you. He knew there was no way he might let you go anymore after he’d snuff out all the information out of you.

No, he might just take you back to Marley with him. First, he’d just have to make you fall for him.

#zeke yeager #zeke yeager x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #zeke x reader #zeke x you #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #snk hange #levi ackerman #snk levi #attack on titan zeke #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #x reader #levi x reader

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

I never thought I’d write a court jester!Steve x King!Billy fic, but here we are. I entirely blame @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @drinkingbeerfroma for this 💋

The original king!Billy and jester!Steve fics are here~ (this is a gift for Ghost and meant to be read in tandem with their fics 🌹)

Drinkingbeerfroma’s fanart is here~ (the enabling source, send them some love 🌹)

P.s....you can probably tell how much of The Witcher: Blood and Wine influenced this for me lol Ch. 2 coming soon! Or, you know, some time!

Read on ao3.

• • • • • • •

Billy strolled into his royal chambers with a tune on his lips. Usually the rustle of clothing, the scoot of furniture, reacted to his whistle so that he could meet his jester right at the door. Or by the bed.

Then again, Steve did wander. Perhaps that’s why he worked as a jester: always the desire to move, to fidget, and it had lent into a natural proclivity for acrobatics.

Billy had never much cared for the athleticism of the job. Not that it wasn’t impressive, but the stunts were the bottom of his jester’s abilities. His Steve.

Steve, who was nowhere in the expansive rooms. Billy huffed a sigh through his nose. He began loitering around, investigating what his jester had left behind and what it could mean for where he’d gone.

Except…he’d left everything behind. Billy’s gaze locked on the sapphire and green velvet of the suit he’d gifted Steve himself, now left in a rumbled state on the bed. The gleaming silk fibers moved with the midday light of the window as Billy circled around the bed to touch them, as if to test that they were real. The fool as good as lived in the king’s royal chambers by this point, so he opened the dresser beside the large writing desk and—

Steve’s original suits and garments sat in the drawers, untouched. The yellow shirt Billy had torn—twice—until Steve left it in disrepair, tired of mending it. The red and purple suit which he’d first strolled into court wearing. His blue boots. The red boots. The god-awful yellow boots to go with that shirt apart from how stained they were from daily living.

What the hell is my fool wearing? Billy mused in disbelief, his amusement only checked by worry.

Amusement that snuffed out under the weight of a paper he finally saw on the desk itself. Both of Steve’s jester hats stood on either side of it, crowning the white square to garner Billy’s attention. More than once, Billy had marveled at his jester’s ability to read and write. This was not one of those times.

Majesty,

An emergency called me home. Nothing to worry about. I’ll return soon.

Yours,

Steve.

Billy read those four lines over and over again, worry tussling with indignant rage, and then confusion. He wanted more out of a note from Steve, which ought not be the prior concern in his mind, but there it was.

Why not address me by my name? This note is for me, nobody else. Who did you fear seeing it? In my own chambers? We’re far past courtly manners.

Largest understatement of his entire reign, but whatever. More annoying and concerning details eclipsed Billy’s focus.

He had no idea where ‘home’ meant for Steve. His Steve. Billy’s pride ordained that Billy is his home; what other place—or person—could have the audacity to yank his fool right out from under him?

Billy’s voice roared down the corridors outside his chambers. His staff was certainly used to making haste in their duties, but this was something else. The king had lost something precious to him, and hell would shiver until he had it back.

It is both a blessing and a curse that the lesbians in his court did not fear him.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Heather barked, swinging out of her room fully dressed in robes but hair a disaster. “Some of us like to do our own fucking now and again.”

“Where is Steve?” Billy growled, damned note in hand. “When did you last see him?”

“This morning,” she sighed with a tone that Billy did not understand until she added, “When he left with Robin. He warned me that you might be grouchy—”

“Grouch—” he began to seethe, but Heather took the paper right out of his hand to give it a look.

“He said he left you a note, your majesty,” she purred through a voice he now noticed to be quite raw. Overused. Her eyelids hung low like she was drunk, or three orgasms gone to the wind.

This only abated Billy’s nerves slightly. Steve genuinely left on his own?

“Where is home?”

Heather frowned at the lines. “For a musician, he isn’t great with words.”

“HEATHER.”

“Same home as my lady, Robin’s. They complain about their corner of the kingdom often enough,” she retorted while surrendering the note as if it had caught flame. “Good grief. How many months has it been? You really don’t pay attention. Your majesty.”

He grimaced pointedly at her lackadaisical manners this morning, but snatched the page up. The sour expression did not fade as he asked, “Who are you fucking if Robin’s not here?”

Heather’s groggy eyes rolled. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself many times over. You’re not the only one around here with an abundance of energy.”

Fuming and feeling too hot for his clothes, Billy marched back to his chambers, yelling orders about a horse.

* * *

More than one person urged against this decision. The more people who tried to talk him out of it, the more disheartening the whole point of secrecy became. Then again, roaring for the whole castle to hear, might not have been the wisest start.

So he sent a rider in one direction, on some pointless “errand for the king,” while he road in another.

It had been a long time since Billy wore commoners’ clothes. He also did not usually go clean-shaven, but he was a different person now. A lone rider on the king’s road, journeying his way to the edge of the kingdom. Two advisors had urged him to take an entourage, at most his best guardsman—but Billy is the best guardsman. First knight and crown prince under his father, The Tyrant. Every dawn stolen from him until the late king’s passing, utterly devoted to training hard, practicing consistent, and never, never losing.

Until the old bastard finally croaked from pneumonia. How simple. How mortal. And ironic, considering his playboy—rat of my blood—heir paraded around with open shirts whenever he was off duty. Constantly challenging gods and climate to do away with him whenever they wished.

The gods took a different king, though. Billy is the monarch now, and for a while, he will be nobody. A fool searching for his fool, and it was not lost on him how ironic his own death might become. But traveling alone on his own roads did not deter him. He’d been on these highways many times—hell, he’d even been assigned to designing and monitoring the reconstruction of the kingdom’s infrastructure.

His last steps on these roads occurred during the funeral tour for his father. An obnoxious tradition, but he’d made the journey in his first month as king. He wondered if anyone would recognize him now. He’d grown his hair out, and so often adorned his face with nothing less of stubble; often indulging in his own shaving kit to manage his facial hair himself and styled it differently whenever he wished. He liked the way lovers shivered against him when he touched their skin. When the lion pressed his lips against the lamb’s pulse.

He liked applying creams to Steve’s inflamed, beard-burnt skin.

He sighed over his horse’s even, medium paced trot. He was a fool, indeed.

* * *

The only thing keeping Billy from scolding himself for knowing so little about his jester, was the fascination of where he came from. Lady Robin entered court to jeers and teasing over her humble, bumpkin origins—before she rightly debated and venomously talked her way around every gnat who dared flaunt a lower intelligence over her.

Billy knew she and Steve got along, but not how much they had in common. Originating from one of the farming districts was one thing, but specifically the dairy and vineyard region proved a fascinating piece of information.

As well as a gorgeous journey. It took a day and two nights, but forests soon exhaled into rolling hills for lines of grape trees, pastures for cattle, sheep, and goats. Billy knew he was getting closer to the center of it all because grapevines began to line the road, with signs every couple of miles encouraging travelers to eat their fill, along with a number informing how far they were to more accommodating civilization.

The smell of shit and manure dampened the experience, but Billy could not claim ignorance over how his own city smelt during the summer. Even under royal decree that half the fleabags leave the capital in order to minimize summer fever and pestilence, the place still reeked.

The road began to veer down into a lush valley of hills; below was the bustling city of this region, and above stood a number of large homes. One ought to have appeared bigger than the rest, but such shared opulence suggested a wealthy middle class instead of one lord standing above them all. Economically, this was healthier. Socially, Billy felt utterly foreign to this hierarchal shape. His court was an uneven, pyramid hourglass. With himself standing on its point, a bloated pool of lords and deceit, then a strangled middle class before an even bigger pool of lower class just trying to feed themselves. It is a shape which cannot hold itself up, and yet he tirelessly managed it.

It’s not my fault, he defended to nobody. It’s what I inherited.

He pat his horse’s neck, feeling the silken grey fur that drew passersby’s glances. He had a beautiful mount: a grey so vibrant she looked blue under storm clouds. His saddle and bridle were humble; couldn’t very well walk around with his embossed leather saddle or a bridle glittering with the king’s golden medallions on every buckle.

When a woman gazed a little too long at him instead of his horse, Billy eased to a stop and smiled charmingly. “Excuse me, where might I find the House of Buckley?”

She adjusted the basket in her arms to hold it on her hip while she swayed coyly. “Peach-colored house on the hill, sir. May I ask what business you have there?”

“Visiting a friend.” Unless she’s in disguise too.

“Best to wait until evening time. Everyone’s in the market or out in the fields right now.”

Billy tilted his head at her. “Buckley is a noble house.” Nobody is working in the fields from that family—

Then she laughed. Laughed. “Are you from the capital?”

Billy’s charm faltered on his face, but he picked it back up easily enough. “Thereabouts. Why?”

“Because people from the capital believe everyone’s rich. Rich enough to sit or poor enough to not own a chair. We all work here, and we’re all in the market or the fields. I can tell you which are Sir Buckley’s, though.”

The little twit liked being a know-it-all, but it served Billy a great deal to be given the tour. Here, property decided who reigned, and property came in the form of land, livestock, or both. With that came a handful of useful names: Buckley, Hagan, Harrington, Wheel—

Billy’s eyes widened like a cat’s pupils dilating on prey. “STEVE!”

Because…there he was. His Steve, strolling right up the cobbled road from the hills and into the market with a donkey loaded with grape baskets beside him. He hadn’t heard his name, giving Billy the time to absorb every new detail about the man who vanished from his castle.

The white, puffy shirt held close to his body with a waistcoat. High-waisted trousers made his legs look long and lean over workman’s boots. He shoved up the colorful fabric ties around his biceps, holding up the shirtsleeves but failing due to all of the sweat from a day in the sun. A belt sagged a little diagonally around his hips, on which such things as pliers, shears, a garden knife, and a pair of leather and canvas gloves waited for use.

Steve took off a large sunhat and set it on the donkey’s head, combing both of his hands through his voluminous, brown hair—

“Steve!”

Billy began to walk his horse in that direction, having long since dismounted for the courtesy of his guide, but now the latter gripped his arm in warning. “That’s Lord Harrington to you.”

Billy blew a raspberry right into the air, scoffing, “Excuse me?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard, she would have been thrown into a stockade for behaving like that to—well, to a king. But she let go of him and went on her way, leaving him to his fate.

So off he went. Billy walked his mount over to where a collection of people were attending to the donkey and the grapes, and Steve nodded in discussion with an older man.

“Lord Harrington, I hear?” he crooned in greeting.

Two heads rotated toward him, and Billy felt rather smacked in the face by the matching eyes and nose. Father. This is Steve’s father.

Lord Harrington. Twice over.

Steve’s features opened with shocked eyes and a dropped jaw. His eyes darted to his father’s frown, and Billy quickly backpedaled, “I apologize. I know the younger, but not the older. My name’s Billy Hargrove.”

He’d bowed his fair share as a knight, though the gesture felt far removed since he was out of practice. Never the less, Steve gaped at his king bowing slightly at the hips and extending a hand for Lord Harrington to shake.

Thing about being king, not many people actually know the monarchy’s family name. They knew William the Second. William of the Grove. Some whispered the Second Tyrant, but only because Billy was still young and new to being king. They were waiting for him to prove them right.

Lord Harrington shook his head with a glance at his son. “You didn’t say anyone was coming with you.”

“I didn’t think anyone was,” Steve answered bluntly, but he picked up the gist of Billy’s disguise easily enough. “Billy’s been a big help to me in the capital.”

“How so?”

Billy’s brows lifted, but before he could provide a veiled innuendo, Steve chirped, “Roommates. Got me a job. Kept me fed.”

“I did my best,” Billy crooned. He watched Steve’s apple bob in his throat.

Lord Harrington, with his similar, albeit shorter and silver, hair and weathered skin opened his arm to gesture Billy up the road. “You’ll be our guest, then. I’ll show you along. Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, my lord. I’ve only just arrived.”

“Very good. This way. Steve, remind Roger about the textiles. We’ve sheared the animals twice already this season. He needs to either wash it or sell it. We can’t hold onto it or else it will mold and be useless to barter.”

Billy peeked at Steve, who similarly veered to go on his separate way. He met Billy’s gaze for the briefest second, and he looked…not entirely happy to see Billy.

The king did not like that at all.

* * *

Billy looked around the Harrington estate, taking in every detail that Lord Harrington granted him. He had yet to see an inkling of whatever this emergency could have been to rush Steve out of the capital. Out of Billy’s bed. It made sense, now, why he had left everything behind, since he had a home and full wardrobe waiting for him here. Billy had not seen a glimpse of Lady Buckley, though.

People are supposed to ask my permission to leave, damn it. Or at the very least, inform him first. Not skip town like bandits.

The Harrington house looked out over the estate’s vast hills of grapes, goats, and sheep. It would have been endearing, the farmers using their canes to nudge the goats along the alleys of vines so they could snack on fallen grapes. Endearing, if Steve had been the one to show him all this. Billy wanted Steve next to him on this veranda—if it could be called that. The house and its balconies overlooking the city and hills were much smaller than his castle’s, of course.

Billy did not stay long in his rooms—room. Just a room. You certainly acclimated to luxury, he reminded himself. One of his first orders in the castle had been a complete renovation to his chambers. He would not live in his father’s rooms. Those were turned into a storage branch of the castle, and Billy had several walls knocked down to make way for the new royal apartments. Let the old bastard haunt the broom cupboards.

Billy trotted down the narrow stairs into what felt like an abrupt arrival at the dining room. Further down in the house would be the kitchen but there was a smaller, stewards’ pantry, of sorts, in which a woman stood and rotated upon hearing him. It took a second, but Billy remembered to bow.

“Am I correct in addressing the lady of the house?”

“You are,” smiled Lady Harrington. It came as no surprise that she looked at least ten years younger than her husband, but the blonde hair did catch Billy off guard. She offered her hand, which he took and kissed its back.

“For some reason, I didn’t think Steve took after his father so much.”

“In looks only. He has all his personality from me.”

Billy rocked a little on his heels, humming an acknowledging sound. He certainly did not voice his amusement that she might’ve just revealed more about her marital bed than she meant to. He simply replied, “I believe it. May I ask: Steve and Lady Buckley rushed out with hardly any explanation. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything’s no more out of the ordinary than it usually is,” she began, returning to her task of preparing what looked like a fruit-soaked wine for their dinner. She sliced up apples and peaches with a curved blade and a practiced hand. “However, our ordinary can be quite sudden and busy.”

A different hum came from Billy’s chest at that. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, if you’re offering, you can half those grapes right there.”

Billy sent the wooden bowl of fruit a dubious glance and then laughed breathily, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she smiled. “For now, you can help me prepare the wine.”

A long dead growl moved through Billy’s mind. Woman’s work—

Stay dead, tyrant, Billy hushed with finality. He accepted the spare knife from her and did the task he was given. She couldn’t know that he was who he was, after all. No one in this town apart from Steve knew that Billy could supply the money, machinery, and manpower at a moment’s notice for whatever reason they might need—

Chatter and laughter moved like a reverse echo outside the house, blooming quickly until, of all people, Robin Buckley herself clapped on the stoop of the Harrington’s side door. Open as it is for the breeze to come and go, she waltzed right in, and stopped at the sight of Billy. Her laughter cut off only to be replaced with, “You!”

“Me,” he threw right back. He raised a brow at a woman of the royal court wearing trousers and boots.

Lady Harrington chimed, “Oh, so you are friends.”

Billy peered back at her. “Was there any doubt?”

“Oh, dear, you look like you’ve never worked a field in your life.”

Billy had never heard his jaw hit the floor until that moment. Robin’s chuckle arrived beside him as she ripped off a handful of grapes for a snack. “When did you get here?”

“Not an hour ago.”

“You could’ve stayed put.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he growled, hoping that she heard his meaning through the words. I’m still your king even if no one here knows it.

She smirked, hearing loud and clear. “Steve gave me the heads up.”

He matched her smile, tone dripping with charming venom. “And where is he?”

She shook her head at him, cooing a tone that was both soothing and condescending. “He’ll be around. You’re in…his house, after all. Thanks, Anne.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” came Lady Harrington’s reply, but Billy hardly heard it.

He was in Steve’s house. A lord’s house. Lord Harrington’s house…and Billy was just some nobody.

Robin really was enjoying this too much.

#harringrove #jester!steve #king!billy #ficlet #neonponders #ghostofjellyfishforgotten #here we go again #pondermoniums

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into-the-afterlife · 3 years

Text

Why I Ship Johnny/Female V: Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2]

This is Part 2 of my essay series on why I ship Johnny and female V. Back in part 1, I covered why I ship female V specifically with Johnny and not male V, as well as some thoughts on Johnny’s sexuality. This time, I’m looking at Johnny himself. (Content warning: there is some discussion of rape and how rape is handled in fiction.)

Johnny, ambiguity and age-old romantic tropes

Look, I’m just going to come out and say this: part of my interest in this ship is thirsting over Johnny. And when I’m interested in something, whether it’s an intellectual, creative or sexual interest, I like to do what I always do – analyse it to death. So what is it about the actor, the performance and the character that makes Johnny as attractive as he is?

Keanu Reeves himself, obviously, can’t be ignored here. He has a gorgeous face and voice, but crucially, he’s distinctively beautiful. Obviously, everyone has the right to be into what they’re into, and I don’t want to shame anyone for their tastes. But I do not understand people who are into the blandly beautiful. Sure, there’s nothing wrong about, let’s say, Chris Evans. But what’s right about him? Where are the snags that catch your attention and hold it? Where’s the life?

Reeves, meanwhile, is attractive because he’s unusual. He has long, dark hair, but he’s regularly photographed at public events with it mussed-up. He has a chiselled face, but his cheekbones are high enough that he looks alien. He has all the charisma of any Hollywood actor, but, whether this is him as he is or an especially well-calculated image choice, it comes off as genuine. When watching interviews with him, you feel less in the presence of a star and more an especially fascinating stranger at a party, one who, despite bursting with witticisms and stories, somehow wants to talk to you most of all.

There’s also an element of age ambiguity here. Reeves is in his fifties, and while age suits his looks better than youth did, it shows. Meanwhile, Johnny the character is in his thirties when he dies, and to match this, the animators smooth out Reeves’ face and darken his beard. They also give Johnny the (unrealistic but glorious) organic arms of a dedicated bodybuilder. So what Johnny ends up with is the presence, confidence and charisma of an older guy, combined with the physicality of someone younger. It’s potent, to say the least. It also adds to Johnny’s uncanniness as a character. He’s caught between maturity and youth, life and death, humanity and machine; he’s hard to pinpoint no matter where you look. And whether you express this academia-style, as, ‘the gothic associates uncanniness with sexuality’, or internet-style, as, ‘I’m a monster/robotfucker’, this is, as the kids say, pretty damn hot.

This uncanniness, as well as Reeves’ looks and performance, also offset some of the more unlikeable aspects of Johnny’s personality. This is best illustrated by the concept art created for Johnny before Reeves was brought on board. (Found courtesy of the lovely folks at r/LowSodiumCyberpunk.)

As you can see, they had a lot of Johnny’s look already nailed down. But this makes the differences all the more startling. This Johnny looks like he’s been dragged through the wringer. His hair is messier, and he seems to be getting premature wrinkles and balding. He’s strung-out, with a genuinely hopeless cast to his face. His look is also a lot more dated. While our Johnny has elements of the old rocker, the jean jacket, bandana, V-necked black jumper and aviators clipped to the tank top root this Johnny inescapably in 1980s music and fashion.

Why is all this relevant to shipping Johnny with V? Partially because I’m shallow, I’m not going to lie. But it’s also because making Johnny look like this would have made him much more obviously an intrusion. A guy dressed like this next to 2077’s booty shorts and space buns is like a ghost in a ballgown next to a woman in jeans. He’s not just out of time; he’s been irrevocably left behind. Johnny’s face here also has much less in the way of possibility. Where our Johnny says, ‘maybe your life would be better if you listened to me’, this Johnny screams, ‘my way is hopeless, but you can’t ignore it’. It’s leaning much more into the tragic aspects of Johnny’s character and of the genre of cyberpunk. And don’t get me wrong – I love that artwork, and think that angle would be an interesting artistic choice.

But making Johnny a tragic intrusion like this removes the element of seduction, so to speak, from his character. What makes Johnny attractive, ideologically, sexually and romantically, is a balance of certainty and uncertainty. On the surface, he’s passionately, blazingly certain of his politics, his music and himself. If you’re taking a leap of faith, whether that’s fighting against the corpos that rule your life or hopping into bed with an engram, what draws you to it is the kind of confidence that makes you doubt your own certainties. Yet too much of that can be off-putting. Nobody wants a partner who’s so cocksure (pardon the pun) that they don’t listen to what you want, and nobody wants a political ally who’s gone so far into their own rhetoric that they can’t convince those outside it.

Therefore, the common factor across all the ways Reeves’ looks impact our perception of Johnny is the balancing of two seemingly opposing things. Keep that in mind, because it only gets more relevant the deeper into this ship, and Johnny’s attractiveness, we go.

Of course, Reeves’ looks are far from the only thing he brings to the table. His acting, across body language, facial expressions and voice acting, is incredible. I want to take a look at his voice acting, as well as his voice generally, first.

I’m not familiar enough with the subtleties of American accents to pinpoint why, but Reeves’ accent sounds slightly different to the more generic accents of other famous actors. Perhaps it’s because he’s Canadian. Either way, his consonants are less harsh on the ear than other A-list actors, his vowels less elongated. He speaks slowly, sounding as if he just woke up. His voice is mellow and soothing; it’s the sort of sound you could take a bath in.

(For reference purposes, I’m listening to this Cyberpunk trailer as I write this, as well as, um, this video that I’ve watched far too many times. XD)

Obviously, to play Johnny he has to modify that laid-back aspect of his voice. But it’s interesting how his natural voice and his ‘Johnny’ voice bounce off each other. Reeves is able to pull off a much more belligerent Johnny than many actors could, precisely because of that laid-back quality his natural voice has. Think of that ‘impressive cock’ line. It’s made as funny as it is because of the total lack of shame in how Reeves delivers it. But in the mouth of an actor like, let’s say, Robert Downey Jr, that level of shamelessness would just come off as annoying. Reeves uses his natural voice to amp up Johnny’s, for lack of a better word, Chad-ness, far beyond the place another actor could manage. Because he has that base of softness, he can go hard on Johnny’s arrogance.

Why is this relevant to Johnny’s attractiveness as a character, as well as why Johnny/F!V are a fascinating ship? To develop a character well, you have to have an extremely solid base to start on – and that base is where a lot of writing and acting falls down. The audience has to know intimately what a character is usually like, or who they seem to be, before burrowing into the character further is made effective. That equal hard/soft approach means that when Johnny does soften later in the game, it seems both unexpected and inevitable. Even as the harsh tone and words were conveying one thing, that softness underneath was always conveying another. But the fact that Reeves can go hard on the arrogance makes that change much more impactful than it would be in another character. Once again, we’re seeing an equal balance of two seemingly opposing qualities, not openly leaning towards one or the other.

There’s also some aspects of the body language Reeves and the animators give to Johnny I’d like to focus in on. While I’m not an actor, nor am I a psychologist, and therefore am likely to have missed things, there were a few things I noticed when going through footage of Johnny in pivotal scenes. (If you spot something I haven’t talked about, please reply or reblog! I’d love to get a back-and-forth discussion going.)

Over and over again, Johnny’s body language has two layers. There’s what I’m calling the ‘douchebag’ layer, which is where Johnny seems insultingly relaxed. The scene when V and Johnny first meet, as well as the scene at the diner, have two great examples of this. Johnny gets into V’s space, but it’s slow, catlike. There’s no urgency when he leans in, nor when he stands over V.

Similarly, at the diner, he tells V he doesn’t want to kill her anymore – something pivotally important for their relationship and the plot - while putting his arms behind his head and his feet up on the table. It communicates, at least on the surface, a real sense of disrespect. ‘I don’t give a shit’, says his posture, ‘whether you hate and fear me or not’. His threatening slowness when they first meet, meanwhile, communicates that he doesn’t think V is a competent opponent. Why should he hurry if he can get her any time?

At least, that’s what it looks like. Take a look from 9:40 onwards here. Sure, he swings his legs up on the table – but not before hurrying into the diner booth and tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. Even when he gets into that relaxed posture, he’s bouncing his leg the entire time. Those catlike movements I talked about when they first meet? If you look from 5:42 here, they’re there. But they’re also interspersed with banging his head incessantly against the wall, pacing back and forth and glitching unpredictably all around the room.

This is where the second layer of Johnny’s body language comes in. Underneath all that casual condescension, he communicates constant, frenetic energy, even anxiety. Even in his default, idle animations, it’s extremely rarely that Johnny communicates real coolness and calm. He covers constantly racing thoughts and feelings with a slick persona.

What this does is very like the hard/soft balance of the voice acting I talked about earlier. Because the ‘douchebag’ layer of body language is the most obvious one, you pick up on that first. But the other layer is there throughout Johnny’s entire arc, and it goes into your brain on a much more subconscious level. Then, when Johnny’s guard does come down, it seems like a natural development of his character while still being a surprise. Once again, there’s that knife-edge balance between two disparate qualities. And for me, attraction always lies in the space between.

There’s also something highly sexual about the way he gets into V’s space when they first meet, the way he stands over her. When first playing the scene where they first meet, it felt like watching the moments before an act of rape. You see him first as he leans over you while you’re still in bed. He beats you to the ground, smashes your head into the window, and towers over you while you’re collapsed on the floor. Given the context of him taking over your body, the overtones are unmistakeable.

But again, crucially, that frantic body language and his lines are the complete opposite of how someone behaves when making the kind of power play that rape is. The pacing, the panicked words and the fact that he’s caught off guard all communicate disempowerment. While it’s still a violent, frightening scene, it’s not a monstrous one.

Why is that relevant to discussing Johnny’s attractiveness, and Johnny/V? Because rape fantasies and male domination are some of the oldest tropes in the book for M/F romantic arcs. Done properly, they play on desires of sexual submission without explicitly acknowledging the kink, depict the eroticism of that liminal space between humanity and monstrosity I talked about earlier and allow you to fantasise about being deeply wanted. Of course, that last bit isn’t a factual depiction of rape in real life. But in the fantasy, the story, the idea of being ravished is partially about being special, being so uniquely attractive that the guy loses all control of himself. If you have a more conservative or repressed view of your sexuality, the ravishment/rape fantasy also allows you to fantasise about sex without seeing yourself as a slut. (This post is a great look at that last idea as applied to the movie Labyrinth, if you want to find out more.)

The idea of sexualised monstrosity is also everywhere in the tropes used to characterise Johnny. He’s a troubled rockstar, an angst-ridden artist who died tragically young, a violent political rebel, part human and part supernatural creature, a charismatic, cocky, seemingly heartless guy, who just might have a heart if you look deep enough. What all these tropes have in common is the promise of both reassuring humanity and fascinating, exciting monstrosity.

Reeves’ and Johnny’s looks combine strangeness and humanity. Reeves’ voice acting moves between soaring arrogance and languid softness. Johnny’s body language combines fear and overconfidence. And the use of age-old romantic tropes in an unexpected context, as well as the use of these specific romantic tropes, knit all the effects of the other things together to create that balance between the human and the strange. He’s unusual enough to be interesting, human enough to seem real and associated with all our cultural symbolism of an attractive man. With all that going on, how could you not find him hot as hell?

But the thing about these tropes is, they’re also so common they’re clichéd. Not just in fandom, but all across Western media and art. So what lifts Johnny and Johnny/V out of being something generic? What makes them so fascinating that I’ve written thousands of words about them? What, in short, makes them different?

That’s what I’ll go into next time.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 2: The Meeting

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little jealous Jensen, flangst when you squint

WC: 1644

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

On Saturday, Y/N’s waiting at the arrivals with the driver. It’s not usually their job to pick up talents from the airport but during dinner last night her boss received a call and disappeared for a few minutes.

It was only this morning that she received a message from her boss that she should please go with the driver to pick up Jensen at the airport.

She has a strong feeling that Jensen’s had something to do with it but her messages and calls that she made to him today went unanswered.

He knows exactly why he didn’t pick up the phone and it drives her fucking nuts!

Standing there, with her arms crossed over her chest, she chews on her gum irritatedly.

It’s about five minutes of waiting in awkward silence until Jensen walks out, rolling his little suitcase behind him. Wearing simple jeans and a hoodie, he hides his hair behind a baseball cap but she can see that he hadn’t cut it, nor had he shaved his beard. She’d like to think it’s because she said that she shouldn’t get rid of it just yet. Her heart does that weird little thing, tripping and all, but she’s keeping her emotions in check. She’s still annoyed and she should remember that.

“Hey!” He greets both of them with the brightest smile.

If he noticed that she’s annoyed, he did his best to ignore it because he smiles down at her, “Y/N, nice seeing you again,” and pulls her into a friendly hug. He smells so good, it’s not fair to her because she’s upset at him and should not let him entice her.

Jensen moves away from her but lets his hand linger at her lower back for a fraction too long before greeting the driver. It’s invisible for the outside eyes but she knows.

The driver leads the way to the limousine and the two of them trail behind.

“You did this, didn’t you?” she mumbles.

“Did what?” he too, keeps his voice low.

“Made me come pick you up.”

“Is that a crime?” he asks while he cocks an eyebrow.

“No, but it’s not my job! Don’t you think it’ll raise suspicion?”

“Relax, babe, nothing’s going to happen this weekend, okay? I can be professional, can you?”

They stop at the limousine as the driver loads Jensen’s suitcase into the trunk and walks to the front to start the motor.

Jensen bends down then when there are no eyes on them, kisses her quick but rough, teeth biting into her bottom lip, making her squeal out in delight. Before she can even get worried that she’s being too loud, he is kissing her again, swallowing the sounds she makes.

When he parts, he smiles down at her, it’s super cocky, “Can you, huh?”

“Is that a challenge?” she asks, not quite trusting him.

“It can be,” he shrugs.

“No funny business while we work together, Jensen.”

“None.”

“I think I’ll win,” she grins.

“Oh, we’ll see,” he pecks her lips once more before walking to the front, “Come on, it’s not nice to let the driver wait.”

They drop him off at the hotel and Jensen’s really surprised that she said that she’s not going to stay. She’s booked into another hotel, closer to the convention center.

“Why?” he asks as she walks to the reception with him.

“I’m working, Jensen, being professional, remember?”

There’s a sigh with an eyeroll and she chuckles.

They checked him in and she walks him to the elevator while she tells him about his schedule for tomorrow, “The driver will pick you and Jared up at 8 AM, be ready, okay?”

“What’s the first thing?”

“Your gold panel, as usual,” she says with a shrug, “Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” he says and bends down, nose brushing against the shell of her ear, “What should I do with my hard cock?”

She grins as he stands up again, and he presses his lips into a thin line, smirking a little. Still grinning, she stands up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, “You have a hand and I’m sure the hotel provides those tiny fancy moisturizers.”

Standing back on her heels, she looks up at him and winks while he frowns.

“Good night, Jensen,” Y/N turns around to leave and waves at him one last time, sees him shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

Back in her hotel, she makes herself bed ready, and has taken a rain check on the team’s night out because she hates to be hungover the next morning when she has to work. The farewell drinks set for Sunday Night, she can do and will do.

Once settled in bed, there’s already a text on her phone.

J: Going out with Jared, maybe I’ll find another girl to help me out with the hard thing in my pants

Y/N: Good luck, don’t drink too much.

J: There’s no one stopping me? And no comment on the girl?

Y/N: You’re working from 8 AM - 9 PM, that should be enough reason. And it’s not like we’re exclusive. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. And who knows, maybe I have someone in my bed right now?

That’s true. They’re not anything, to be honest. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company. She never went into this wanting more, because she knows that it is probably not going to happen, so she’s trying not to let her feelings interfere with what they have. Even though living with Jensen was hard for her feelings. She got to know him better, got to know his little quirks. Even though they annoy her sometimes, she thinks that she would be able to make it work because she’s able to look past them, work her way around things that exasperate her the most about him. In any case, it’s totally unfair that there isn’t really much to be bothered about. She bets she has more things that annoy him but he doesn’t seem to mind them either.

J: Do you?

Y/N: Good night, Jensen.

J: Do I have to come over?

Y/N: No, go out with Jared.

J: I can’t if I don’t know who’s with you.

Her heart’s picking up speed. Jensen’s jealous. That’s a first. Well, he never had to worry about it since he was the only man around her for four fucking months! She kind of likes it, can’t lie about that.

Y/N: Listen, I’m going to set my phone aside. Good night.

Y/N hates hotel beds, it’s really not the same like sleeping at home and she tosses and turns. It was the same last night, too. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s because she’s alone. She was holed up with Jensen for almost four months, shared a bed with him, with his warm body next to hers. Maybe she just misses the closeness. She wonders how it’ll be once they go back to normal, wonders how her nights will turn out once she gets back to her own apartment, and sleeps in her own bed. Alone. Because that’s what’s going to happen eventually. As she said, they aren’t anything and they won’t be.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of tossing and turning, she eventually finds a comfortable position to be in and is slowly drifting off to sleep when there’s a sharp knock at her door.

Her head shoots up and she frowns, “Who is it?”

“Room service!” the man on the other side calls out.

It’s ridiculous really, to be yelling room service when she knows exactly who it is. She’d recognize the voice anywhere.

She gets up and walks over to the door, opens it up with annoyance, but only enough to let her head peek through, “You should not be here.”

Jensen’s eyes widen, “Wow, I’m happy to see you too.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Go, I want to sleep.”

“I just want to say good night.”

“Sure,” she chuckles, “You wanted to check if I’m spending a night with some other dude.”

“No?” He frowns and she looks at him with that cocked eyebrow. Looks at him so long until he caves, “Fine! Yeah, I wanted to see.”

“There’s nobody here.” she whispers, because she remembered that they have to be quiet.

“Yeah, no, open the door,” Jensen asks firmly. That’s one of his little quirks, he’s thorough.

Reluctantly, she opens the door wider and her bed comes into view, “Are you happy now?”

He takes a step in further, walks to the bathroom, and she has to roll her eyes so hard, her head hurts.

“Do you really think I’m hiding someone in my bathroom?” she hisses out from the doorway.

Jensen comes out, and walks back to the door, “I like to be thorough,” he shrugs, as if that explains it all. His hand comes up to brush the knuckles against her face, fingertips trailing along her throat down to the collar of her shirt, “That’s my shirt,” he chuckles and hooks one finger into the collar, tugging it, “I was wondering where it went.”

“Yeah, it somehow landed in my suitcase,” she says, hoping that he doesn’t see the color rising up to her cheeks. It’s not even a lie, she slept in it the night before she left, so she just kind of packed it without even thinking.

“Good night, Y/N,” Jensen bends down, kisses her cheek, his beard prickles against her skin.

And it’s crazy how a cheek kiss can affect her. She’s getting all warm and fuzzy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she swallows hard as he parts, and it takes everything in her not to fling herself at him.

Jensen nods before he walks along the corridor to the elevator, winks at her one last time.

Chapter 3

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#confidentiality #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jesen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #nathalie writes

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doubletriplepowerbomb · 3 years

Text

Mr Lonely part 4

Word count: +2600 (its a short one... I know)

Warnings: none

Tags: @jenn0755 @zappyzoodle @disturbthepearls @lost-in-the-stories @lithesxx @racingandreigns @rocketgirl2410 @vebner37 @therianfurry46 @littlelunaticfringe @finnbalorlover21 @winged-time-criminal @mrsnegan25 @xfirespritex @wefunloveruniverse @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

Read part 3 here

December 1st. It’s been 3 months since the night we started officially dating. The air was frigid and the trees were bare. Snow covered the ground and the sun started setting at 4 pm. But I wasn’t as grumpy as I would have been, I had him. Things had been going really really well. We haven’t been able to keep our hands off of each other. Sheamus’ large hands hold my hips every time he walks past me and I still feel weak under his touch. When my back is turned to him, he’ll either slap my ass playfully or run a hand through my hair. When his back is turned to mine, I do the same things.

We don’t often make it through dinner. I prefer to dine at home, that way I can crawl onto his lap whenever I want. He prefers to dine out, only so he can tease me under the table and watch me suffer.

He’s been really good about the girls too, there aren’t many that try anymore but sometimes he gets the occasional text. I hate it, I trust him, but I hate it. His number is everywhere in my bar, I’ve tried my best to paint over the pen and marker marks but the carvings remain. The digits dug into my bar taunt me every time I'm working and I hate it. I want him all to myself. This isn’t the first time I’m saying this, he knows how much it bothers me to see his phone number carved into the wooden bar and stall doors. Nothing I can do can get rid of the past.

It was 2 am on Christmas Day.

Sheamus’ phone buzzed silently in his sweatpants pocket. He had worn pants to bed that night, which I found odd, and he never placed his phone on the windowsill near him like he usually did.

I remember waking up to him getting out of bed slowly, I didn’t open my eyes but I rolled towards him and placed a hand on his warm back, he was sitting up. “Go back to bed, love. Ah’m just goin’ to the bathroom.” He whispered. That was enough for me so I removed my hand from his warm skin and rolled back over.

What I didn’t know was that Sheamus was not going to the bathroom. He slipped out of my room and closed the door silently behind him. He had left his laundry folded on my couch, I noticed earlier but didn’t care much. He pulled on a long sleeve shirt and a warm flannel before rummaging through the small pile and grabbing two socks, not turning on any light to see if they matched. He then slipped on his old work boots, reminding himself to get a new pair soon, and his coat before grabbing the keys to his truck and my key to the bar.

I woke up on Christmas Day to Sheamus rolling over in my bed and snuggling up closer to me. It was 10 am. I was excited for today, the bar was not open on Christmas so Sheamus and I would spend the evening with my family. Sheamus’ family is in Ireland, he doesn’t talk much about them. All I managed to know is that he doesn’t have any siblings and he doesn’t get along with his father.

I turned in his arms so that I was facing him. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. He was snoring softly and breathing steadily. I gently ran my finger along the lines of his face, his lips turned upward when fingers brushed through his beard.

Normally, I would get up to make breakfast but I didn’t want to disturb him. He was always so intense, so charismatic, and so alive that it seemed out of character for him to be so at peace. He looked content. I’m sure the holidays weren’t the best times for him in previous years, I figure he spent them alone. Sure, there were women more than willing to spend the nights in his bed but what did he do when they were gone too? I knew he missed home, he had family at home. He definitely missed his mom. He spoke to her on the phone every day and they even sent letters back and forth-- I was at his apartment once, sitting on the couch while he took a shower after a long day of work, and I saw the most recent letter from his mom on the counter. I didn’t want to read it and I didn’t read it, but I couldn't help scanning my eyes over the page. I caught my name written in a random sentence in the middle of the page… he had mentioned me to his mother.

Sheamus woke up, his bright blue eyes met mine and snapped me from my trance. I blinked a few times and, knowing I had been caught staring, felt a blush bloom across my face. Sheamus only smirked his beautiful smirk and pulled me closer to him. He was always so warm. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head before resting his chin in the place he just kissed.

“Ya look like you've been thinkin’ love.” He mumbled. “Ah can still see the smoke common’ from yer ears from all the effort.” Sheamus laughed at his joke and squeezed me against his bare chest, allowing me to get close enough to slap it. Despite the playfulness and gentleness of my slap, my hand left an angry red mark on his skin. I always felt bad after seeing a mark on his skin, they never hurt him but the stark red against the beautiful white always made it seem like a life-threatening injury. He personally liked all the marks I left on his smooth white skin over the months, he would always admire them after sex.

I playfully pushed away after staring at the mark from the slap and sat up on the bed, “ugh, and to think I was gonna make you snowmen shaped pancakes this morning.”

Sheamus rolled dramatically onto his back, my eyes were drawn to the blanket riding low on his hips. My eyes followed the trail of soft red hair leading downwards from his belly button, teasing what was beneath the boxers he was wearing. “Oh no! Whatever will ah do without three normal shaped pancakes that ya line up on a plate and put chocolate chips on fer eyes?!”

I feigned offense to his overly dramatic comment. “Excuse me? They are cute!”

“Yer cute.” He winked and sent me a boyish grin that made my insides clench. I shut my lips and decided to tease instead. I rolled my eyes and stood up before bending over to grab his shirt. I knew he was watching. I was only wearing underwear. He didn’t move, but he was growing hard underneath the fabric of my sheets and his boxers-- he had taken the sweats off after he had gotten back around 4 am. I slipped his shirt on and headed towards the bedroom door, “I'm making you snowmen pancakes.” I said before stopping to turn around. I turned and my eyes met his, “and you better be appreciative or I will put on pants.”

It was the only threat I knew he’d take seriously.

We ate our pancakes in the comfortable silence that I have grown to love over the past couple months. “You don’t have to leave today, do you?” I asked between bites of pancake. My eyes rose from my plate to meet his eyes.

He finished his bite and my eyes moved to his neck as he swallowed. He took a sip of coffee before speaking. “Of course not. It’s Christmas, nobody works on Christmas.” Sheamus shot me a smirk before shoveling the final forkful of pancake in his mouth. “Yer spendin’ the whole day wit’ me, love.” He wiped his mouth and mustache with his napkin before getting up and placing his plate in the sink. “Whether ya like it or not.” I watched his bare torso and arms shamelessly as he rinsed his plate. I could feel heat shooting throughout my body as his muscles rippled with his effortless movements.

“When do you want to do gifts?” I asked, staring at his back as he placed the rinsed dish in the dishwasher.

Sheamus was silent for a moment but spoke after he closed the dishwasher and turned to me. My eyes were on his body as he turned. “We can do gifts whenever ya want. But ya should go first, ya won’t be able to follow my gift to you.”

I shot him a glare and padded to the living room, where a small Christmas tree stood in the corner by the couch. “Sit.” I pointed towards the couch, the pile of laundry from yesterday was still sitting on one of the cushions. Sheamus sat and I walked to the small coat closet that I had and began digging through the clutter. I emerged seconds later with a medium sized box wrapped in shiny green paper with a golden bow. I placed it on his lap with a kiss to his head and sat on the couch beside him.

Sheamus opened the gift with a smile on his face and a shimmer in his eyes, he looked like the little boy in the photo of him I saw for the first time months ago. The paper was peeled off and revealed a neutral box, he looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I nodded once, encouraging him to continue opening. He opened the box carefully and I smiled upon seeing a small gasp escape from his lips. He pulled the left boot out of the box and turned to me. “How’d ya know ah needed new boots? And ya got the brand and the size and everythin’!”

“Well I’m not blind, your boots are falling apart and you always beg me to rub your feet after work,” I scrunched my nose as I told him. “And you’re not the most unpredictable dresser. You wear the same thing everyday. I took one of your boots to the store downtown a few weeks ago, got the same brand, same size, same color. I have the receipt if you wanna go back and try something new.” I told him.

The Irishman smiled and brought his arm around my shoulders to pull me in. “They’re perfect. Thank you, love. Ah really needed these.” He whispered before pressing a kiss to my temple. “But, my gift is still better than yours.” He teased.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Okay, where is it then?” I asked, looking around. I have to admit, I did my fair share of snooping these past couple days-- both at my apartment and his-- while he was at work and I couldn’t find a thing.

“Well, ah don’t have it here…” His voice trailed off but it picked up again before I could speak. “As much as ah hate when ya get dressed, yer gonna have to.” I rolled my eyes and dragged him into my room. I threw on a pair of joggers and a jacket over his shirt.

I turned to look at him, “Is this good? Or are you taking me somewhere public?” Sheamus chuckled and told me I was fine. I pulled my hair up into a half up half down bun before slipping on my boots and following him out to his truck.

Sheamus had started the truck before we had gotten outside so it was warming up quickly as we climbed in. The air was brisk, the wind was blowing, and snow covered the sidewalks. Christmas hits played at a low volume on the radio. Normally, I’d be singing, but I stayed quiet so I could hear Sheamus' deep accented voice sing the lyrics.

He pulled into the parking lot of the bar and I sat in the passenger’s seat, looking extremely confused. “The gift is in here.” He commented, noticing my confusion. I glared at him before climbing out of the truck and following him to the doors. He pulled the key out of his jacket pocket and opened the door, holding it for me to walk in. I clicked on the lights and looked around, nothing seemed out of the ordinary other than the faint smell of paint-- that I didn't notice at the time.

“Is my gift in here?” I teased.

“Yes, it is. Look around, but don’t touch anythin’.” I groaned, my mom always played the hot and cold game with us on Christmas and I was always so impatient. I looked around for a few minutes, finding nothing. Sheamus knew I’d be searching hopelessly, I was looking for a box. “Look on the bar, love.”

I turned to him, “On?” I wanted to make sure I heard him correctly.

He nodded, “Yes, dear, on.”

I turned back to the bar and walked closer, I saw nothing on it. “There’s nothing here.” I spoke, still looking at the blank wood.

“Exactly. There’s nothin’ there…” His voice trailed off, leaving me to solve his riddle.

It took a moment for it to click. When it did, I took off down the bar. The entire surface was smooth, untouched wood. I ran into the bathrooms, the stall doors were also smooth and untouched. I bursted from the spotless bathrooms and circled around to the tables I knew had been carved. “Sheamus!” I squealed as I ran straight towards him. He was still standing right by the door, he hadn’t moved. Once I reached him he held his arms out for me and I jumped into them-- cliché, I know. But you’d do the same thing if the former town whore, who was now your boyfriend, had removed his phone number from every wooden surface in the bar you worked at because you didn’t like it being there.

“How’d you do this?” I asked, still in his arms. “When’d you do this? I was at the bar last night. Granted we closed early but you were with me the entire time.” I was babbling. I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help myself.

“When I woke ya up last night and told ya ah was goin’ to the bathroom. Ah snuck out of the apartment and filled in the wood, re-stained it too.”

“Oh my god, Sheamus,” I pulled my head away from the crook of his neck to look into his blue eyes. They still had that shimmer in them, the same one from the photo, the same one he had when he would ask me to check his essays, the same one when we talked that first night in the bar, and the same one from when he opened his new boots. “Thank you.” My voice came out as only a whisper before I pressed my lips to his.

“And that was the moment I knew I was in love with your father.” I said, looking up at my daughter who was furiously typing away on her school-issued laptop. She had approached me earlier asking questions about my relationship with her father for a school project about her family.

3 Christmases after our first together, Sheamus proposed to me in the empty bar. We got married the next fall. That was 20 years ago, we have a son who is 18 and a daughter who is 16. Our son, Andrew, has my hair and my brown eyes. He got my tanner complexion too. Our daughter, Alex, on the other hand, is a carbon copy of the Irishman:" red hair, blue eyes, and beautiful pale skin.

“Wait, dad was… ‘the town whore’?” Alex stifled a laugh as she quoted my words, “How am I supposed to write that into my project?”

I laughed too, “I don’t know, honey. But don’t make fun of dad too much about it, he’ll get embarrassed.” I joked.

My daughter smiled and looked back down at her computer screen. “I’ll just say that you met in high school and met again after college. That’s good enough.”

A/N: chapter 4 was short, but I hope you enjoyed Mr. Lonely! I debated writing the proposal scene so let me know if you want it and I’ll post it as a chapter 4.5!

#sheamus #sheamus fanfiction #sheamus smut #sheamus x reader #wwe

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

Text

LOVE IS LIKE - Sleeping Beauties and Working Life

< PART 1 | PART 2 Sleeping Beauties and Working Life | PART 3 >

A/N: It's snowing so I'm stuck inside..writing! Hope you all have a lovely Sunday ❤️

Summary: Back to work, Henry remembers his early days in showbizz. And the banana sock wearing woman appears to have found the sneakily shared phone number.

Word count: 2.179

The song: Chaka Khan - Like Sugar

Disclaimer: mentions of great age difference sex partners, stardom, loss of partner to cancer, dieting, physical/mental insecurity as well as Henry just really loving his work

LOVE IS LIKE - Sleeping Beauties and Working Life

Hey. Thanks for the book! I figured the number written in the book was your number? If not, I’m sorry and don’t mind this message. - 08.45

It’s Aurora btw. - 08.47

The name’s Aurora I mean. - 09.04

nvm - 09.05

Thanks for the book! Good luck with everything! - 09.06

And say hi to Kal from me - 09.06

‘Are you asleep?’ Fingers traced through Henry’s curls, their strands slightly sticky with hair products and sweat after one busy night between the sheets, the ceiling fan broken. Henry grumbled, indicating he was at least sort of awake, his lips curling in a lazy, close-eyed smile.

‘Again?’ He mumbled quietly with his young sweet voice. The woman laughed and propped herself up on one arm, eyes tracing down the soft morning silhouette of the kid who became a man.

‘No, no. You did well.’ She lowered her fingers to trace his brow, nose, cupid’s bow and lips, fingertips silky soft and gentle over Henry’s skin. Henry’s smile grew. Almost as if proud he had managed to please her.

For a moment the room was quiet. A very early Los Angeles sun was starting its slow rise over the hills somewhere far from this 70’s style abode with its paisley print curtains and yellow shag pile carpet. The interior fitted its owner quite well; her long sleek brown hair cut in bangs that hid those mysterious emeralds that had taunted his dreams ever since he met her on set. She was older. Much older. And perhaps those bangs were there just to hide her first wrinkles. But Henry rested easy beneath her trailing fingers, his eyes slowly fluttering open as she spoke again: ‘So how is Hollywood treating you?’ There was some concern in her voice and Henry looked at her. After getting busy all night they hadn't spoken quite so sincerely yet. He shrugged.

‘Hollywood is Hollywood?’

The woman moved her fingertips to his chin and used her hand to tilt his face more sharply in her direction. Her mouth opened to speak, but she hesitated. The concern had now spread to her eyes as they gleamed in the light of dawn. ‘Be careful yea? And if you ever need help with anything..? I can help..or get you help. Okay?’

‘Ok.’ Henry pushed himself up so he could cup his hand around her cheek, pulling her closer. She let him. ‘Thank you.’ He whispered, kissing her like the way they did in the movies.

Henry stretched out in his naked morning glory, the early London air chilly on his skin. Pushing the sheets off of him and with Kal refusing to wake from his doggy dream by the foot end of the bed, Henry padded over to the ensuite. Squinting in the burst of bright lights clicking on, he stepped beneath the shower, cold water jumpstarting his day, the very air pushed out of his lungs as the radio alarm cued exactly on time. 4.30.

'Li-like sugar, so sweet Good enough -- to eat,'

Gasping softly Henry pawed his hands over his crusty eyes, waiting for the water to become more warm and soothing with every massaging drop of water. From here on his morning routine was perfected to the minute. Coffee: brazilian. Gym: ACDC. Eggs: 5. Kal: walk. Cab: thankfully on time.

It was near 9 when he walked onto set in his full gear, ready for his first run-through of the day, Leah waving him off with Kal by her side. 'Be careful yea?' She chanted, smiling as he winked at her - she always said that no matter how totally safe the day's set would be.

'I will! Have fun today.'

'You too!' Leah wanted to turn around when she felt something buzz deep inside her bag of tricks, her hand having to angle for a bit before she found Henry's phone - kept there for safe keeping.

Whatsapp - 08.45 - Hey. Thanks for the book! ..

Leah smiled.

And there was the mysterious new book owner.

Henry let himself fall back on his bed, the frame squeaking. Suddenly Jersey felt too small. His bedroom too boyish. His clothes too normal. His dreams no fiction but real.

Flopping around on his belly he turned his attention back to his flip phone, his eyes roving over the call that had just finished. Hundreds of boys, hundreds of auditions. But he got it. He got it! Smiling only to himself he sighed, near missing the sound of feet walking over the floorboard landing.

Was that Charlie? With an excited little squeal Henry pushed himself off his bed to chase after his brother. It looked like his little brother had just lost a bet!

'HENRYYY!!! Henry!!!' Squinting his eyes at the flash of a camera, he stepped out of the hotel's revolving doors. By his side his trusty pal Kal looked up. Fans.

'Henry! Can I take your picture? -- Can you sign-' Some pieces of paper were shoved in his face and with the blinding glare of the flash gone he finally managed to throw a smile their way, his free hand scribbling some signatures here and there as he greeted them with a warm good morning.

Some girls squealed and as the excitement finally dissipated, Henry thanked them all and bid them a good day, some few last flashes following his silhouette as he pulled Kal in the direction of the nearest Parisian park.

It truly had become a Mission Impossible to just walk his dog. And Henry couldn't help but laugh as Kal snorted in what may be disapproval.

'I know I know. I won't forget about you.'

'Hey.'

'H-hi. Hi?'

'It's Henry.'

'Oh, of course!'

Henry smiled as Aurora's voice greeted him back through the phone line. It was a little past snacktime, his hands holding onto his tupperware with last night's pasta. He was hungry, but with her messages waiting for him, he had decided food could wait a moment.

'So I see the book has found a good home with you?'

'It has. Hahah. Thank you again. In fact..I kind of finished it last night, dodging around some particularly benign toothmarks I think I got the jest of the story.' She laughed again, making Henry smile back as he looked out over the set, some camera men in raincoats dragging around material.

'Well there's more where that came from.'

He hesitated the moment the words were out of his mouth. OH you donkey! That..that is not something you say to -- she laughed even harder.

'Oh why that sounds both terribly enticing and terribly inappropriate hahahaha.'

'Sorry that kinda - '

'Oh please hush.' Her chuckles subsided and after some loud clatter and a yelp her voice returned to the phone. 'Hey..eh..aherm..can I-eh, DAMMIT, can I call you back?'

'Something wrong?'

'J-just me trying to manage coffee and a laptop - and failing.' It sounded like this was just another Tuesday for her. She really was clumsy huh?

'Oh! Oh yes. Of course. Hope your laptop's alright..eh.. I'm off after..6..ish?' Henry looked to his left and saw Leah return with one exhausted Kal, back from their walk.

'Okay!'

'Alright. Goodbye..Aurora.'

'Byeeee!'

He was soo, soo hungry. Cutting never was his favourite part of dieting, though this time it was extra rough. For half a year he had just let go, not working out much at all. But then the one role that got away was back in arm's reach and for the hell of it; he couldn't let it slip by.

Gritting his teeth he focused back on the barbell on the gym mat, weights the size of two small children on either side. At least if Ellen wanted kids, I can manage them with ease, he thought, gripping his sore hands around the bar before he pushed off to lift it with all the strength he could muster. It wasn't enough. The bar only lifted halfway before his body sighed in defeat, the weight of it all crashing down on him finally as the barbell landed back on the floor with a loud thump.

Ellen hadn't called back in days.

'Remember me?' He felt stupid for calling, but he just needed it right now.

A warm voice responded like they called all the time.

'Hey! Henry! Of course! How are you?! Are you okay dear?'

Henry settled on the airport bench, waiting for his personal cab to arrive. Stardom was great, but in silent moments like these he felt terribly alone. He felt stupid for it, but her voice was near bringing him to tears.

'Yea ehh..' His voice broke and the small boy in this Superman body returned.

'Hey-hey. No problem darling no problem. Where are you right now? Are you safe?'

Henry nodded and looked through the haze of his tears in hope nobody would see him - thankfully he was alone.

'Talk to me.'

'I'm sorry for--' He wished to hang up, forget about it all. Ellen leaving. The stress. Fatigue. The travel. But he didn't. He just hesitated, waiting for her to speak again.

'I don't know where you are Henry dear. But you must know that you're not alone, okay? And if you happen to be in town; I'm making an absolutely delicious, mean and green lasagna.'

Henry wiped away a rogue tear and smiled. He could kill for a lasagna right now. And one cheat meal couldn't hurt right? Looking up as he saw a man with a clipboard sporting his name appear, he sat a little more upright.

'I--I might just take you up on that.'

'Okay.' Her lack of glasses and banana print socks made the woman before him near irrecognizable. She did however still have that dorky vibe about her, especially when she removed the awkwardly placed handbag before her; a stain on the right side of her tight dress appeared. She grimaced. 'It's bad isn't it?'

Henry chuckled and stood up from his seat, the chique bar a hushed daze of black furniture and fancy cocktails being carried by hipster bearded men. 'Hi Aurora.'

'Hi.' She let a chuckle escape her red painted lips and let him move out a seat for her. She smelled nice.

'I thought I could fit in one more business meeting and eat on the way. And..yea..that--' She shook her head and waited for Henry to take his seat, his face beaming with mirth.

'Stain or not, I'm glad you're here.'

'As am I.' She picked up the drinks card and immediately turned it to the snacks side. 'Do you mind if I order something on the side?'

'Oh no, no of course. I'd like some too actually.' He leaned in to look with her through the options, the both of them deciding on a cheesy snackboard.

'And here I was thinking all of Hollywood was on a diet.' She smirked, making Henry grin.

'Trust me: been there, done that. But no more. I like eating simply too much.' He winked and signaled a waiter to take their order.

'Good.'

He had initially spread his arms to keep his balance as he rushed after Kal on this slippery meadow of grass. But as Kal returned on Henry's call, leaving some racing off sheep behind, Henry kept his arms up like that. Like an eagle in flight he sniffed in the countryside air, feeling blessed cold air tingle his lungs. Life was good right now. Really really good.

Halting his feet and near slipping in the process, he lowered his arms to praise Kal for listening and returning to him. Sometimes, his furry son truly could be a handful. Today, he was a good boy.

'Chasing after the ladies again huh?' He rushed his fingers through Kal's thick warm fur. 'Well there's one thing you should know Kal; gotta give them some space every now and then.' Kal looked up. 'And don't forget to listen to what they want, mkay?'

Kal borked softly. Henry laughed, being bombarded with an in-the-face-tongue-kiss.

Drinks buzzed in their veins and between all the laughter and nerding out, Henry noticed something. First he thought it was a play of light. A figmentation of his mind. But he could see it clearly now as she noted his gaze and held up her left hand: no longer there, the left-over indent from what once had been a ring.

'I'm no longer married if that's what you want to ask.' She sighed and lowered her hand again, looking at it with an unreadable expression.

'Oh eh.. no, no. I couldn't be so rude to..-'

'No, you're very much allowed to ask, Henry. Please.' Aurora smiled and took a somewhat shaky breath before finding her comfortable, confident (though slightly clumsy) self again. 'He got cancer, died two years ago. We built the company together..'

'I'm sorry for your loss.'

She smiled. 'Thank you. I do miss him, but this is just life. Can't have the good without the bad. And it's okay now. I like where I am.'

'In some dimlit bar with some weirdo you met on an airplane?'

'Absolutely.' She snickered, then shook her head. 'But no haha. You're no weirdo Henry. In fact; you are perfectly, and surprisingly..normal.' And with that she reached out that ring-less hand and brushed it over his right hand opposite the table. Her hands were so soft on his.

A comfortable silence fell and were it not for the toasty heat of the indoors, Henry would swear he was on that meadow with Kal again, feeling like he was breathing truly for the first time in a long, long while.

He smiled.

Part 3 >

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @maddyreads14

@beck07990

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #love is like #fans and fiction #henry cavill x ofc #memories #i guess it will be three parts?

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

Please Daddy Part 3

Pairing: Joe Anaoi X Reader (Roman Reigns X Reader)

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

Enjoy Part 1 and Part 2 first!

She was facing me, so when I woke, she was the first thing I saw this morning, and my heart swelled with joy. She was my baby girl now, and I’d do anything to make her happy. I resisted the urge to touch her cheek, letting her sleep instead. After a quick shower, I pulled my laptop out of my bag and sat down at the desk to work, but no matter how much I tried to concentrate, my eyes kept drifting to her. She looked so calm, so peaceful, so beautiful. I still couldn’t believe she was mine.

Quickly, I sent an email to the office that I’d be working from home today. There weren’t any pressing deadlines today, and I needed the day to get to know her more. I felt like there were a lot of little details we needed to share to really cement the relationship, so the day would be spent with her. Then I remembered that I didn’t know if she was going to work today. Well, if she did, I’d go to work for a bit, but I was ready to convince her to take the day off.

I started a list of tasks I needed from my assistant and was almost done when she woke. I went to lay beside her, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her forehead. “Good Morning, Baby Girl.”

She sighed like she had yesterday on the phone. “Morning Daddy.” Her sleepy smile was so fucking adorable. I caressed her cheek now and gave her a sweet kiss. “Hey, You’re here. What time is it?” she asked.

I couldn’t believe how excited I was just to tell her I took the day off for her. “It’s 7 am. I’m taking the day off if you are.”

Her sleepy eyes opened wide with a smile. “Really?”

I couldn’t help but pull her tight for a hug and whispered in her ear. “Spend the day with me, please.” “Yes,” She giggled, and I just had to kiss her.

“You know, I was ready to convince you if necessary.” I smiled down at her.

Her smile turned to a smirk and her eyes shined up at me. “Oh really? In that case, I change my mind. I’m going into work.” That smirk was so sexy, my dick twitched, and as I leaned in to kiss her, I started to get hard. “Convince me.” She half begged.

Slowly, I ran my hand over her side, wrapping around and grabbing a hand full of her incredible ass as I kissed her. Her hips pressed hard into mine, and I knew she wanted me.

Without warning, she turned us until she was on top of me. With a cheeky look, she crawled down my body, kissing as she went. That mouth! I wanted her to suck me, but dang, she was so good at it I’d have to distract myself or I’d cum early. I tried to focus on work, but the second her mouth wound around the head of my dick, I couldn’t help but feel everything. Her hands massaging my balls, her mouth sucking my dick, her ass in the air and hips moving with desire as she pleased me.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t. I looked. Shit! So fucking sexy! I reached down and played with her hair as I watched her take my cock so well. In minutes, I was ready to cum, so I pulled her up my body. “Come here.”

She looked disappointed as she obeyed. “I want to…..”

“I know baby. I know.” I kissed her softly, “but I need to be inside you.” As she straddled my hips and I felt the warmth of her pressed against my hard dick, I considered not fucking her yet. I could eat her out or use a toy on her. My body still hummed with desire, and I was afraid I would cum too fast.

What was it about her? Stamina was never an issue with me, but when she sucked my cock, I lost all control of myself.

I turned us until I was on top and slid inside her feeling the warmth of her pussy surround me and moaned. Reaching down I toyed with her clit and focused on her pleasure. I successfully brought myself back from the brink of orgasm. I chuckled to myself realizing I should be edging HER, but instead I ended up edging myself.

Once I felt more in control and she seemed to be losing control, I pulled her legs over my shoulders and pounded into her as hard as I could. The noises she makes! Moans, gasps, feral noises. I loved every one of them, and I loved that I was the reason she made those noises.

“Cum for me baby girl. I want to feel that tight pussy clench around my cock.” At the command, she let go and screamed as she clenched around me. “That’s a good girl. That’s my baby.” Her body clenched again, and I lost control, fucking into her wildly as I came.

Laying beside her, I pulled her into my arms, kissing her gently every now and then and cooing out praises to her. Once she seemed sufficiently recovered, I pulled her out of bed and helped her into the bathroom.

She peed while the shower heated up, and I came back in to join her when she closed the shower door. I washed and conditioned her hair before washing her body, and she patiently waited while I washed myself but did reach out to run her fingers over my soapy body a few times. I dried her with the soft, fluffy towels I’d bought when I was setting up the room, and when she started spraying leave-in conditioner in her hair, I took the bottle and the wet brush. “Go sit on the bed baby.” She did and I sat behind her to brush. “I love your hair. When we are together, I want to be the one who takes care of your hair, ok?” She nodded yes. quickly

“Do you have any plans today?” I asked as I slowly brushed the tangles out of her hair.

She paused a second before saying, “Nothing important.”

I turned her head so I could brush the other side of her hair. “But you had plans?” I handed her the brush and pulled her back, so she was sitting in my lap. “Tell daddy.”

She wrapped her arms over mine and leaned her head back onto my shoulder. “I was hoping to visit Kal today.” She admitted.

“Who is Kal?” I grumbled.

She smiled at my possessiveness, “Henry’s dog.”

Henry’s dog? Henry. Again, Henry. “It’s starting to feel like there are 3 of us in this relationship.” I said much louder than I intended.

“Daddy, there has never been a fraction of a second that I’ve been with you and thought of anyone else. You completely consume me. The way you touch me, kiss me, make me feel like the most important person in the world. I don’t want Henry. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“And what happens if Henry changes his mind?”

“Changes his mind about what?” She was either a great actress or she didn’t know what I meant.

“About having kids.” I admitted.

She turned so she was straddling my lap. “Henry told you that was the reason we split?” She put her arms around my neck and looked sweetly at me. “Daddy.” The rage had built I me, and I didn’t answer. “Joe,” Her voice was stern now. No sub had ever challenged me like she did. I suspected I was hearing her lawyer voice. “Have you ever known a relationship to end because of one reason?” I hadn’t, but I didn’t need to say it. “When Henry and I ended things, we agreed that telling people it was because he didn’t want kids would be a good enough reason that nobody would ask about other issues. In truth, there were a few reasons we broke up. So, even if he changed his mind, I wouldn’t go back to him.” Her steely gaze bore deep inside me. “I don’t want Henry. I want you.”

Surveying her face, I saw only sincerity and it calmed my rage a bit. “What other reasons?”

She relaxed as she saw she was getting through to me. “For starters? Henry likes to give more pain than I like to receive.”

The mere thought that he could hurt her caused me to bristle again. “Did he hurt you?”

She put a hand on my cheek, running her thumb over my beard. “No, but I know he was disappointed at the amount of pain I could take. Our insane schedules didn’t work either. With him shooting all over the world, and me leaving for months on end for trials, it didn’t work. We didn’t have enough time together.” She looked sweetly at me before placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “It’s been over for years. Hearts have healed, and I was ready to meet you. You are the man that I want.”

Relief flooded into me as I realized that she didn’t want Henry anymore. “Honestly?”

“My heart, my body, my mind…. They’re all yours. I’m yours.” She kissed me on the tip of my nose sweetly. “Please, tell me you believe me.”

I smoothed my hand down her back and smiled at her. “Yes. I believe you.”

“What are we going to do today, daddy?” She broke the residual tension in the room.

I slid my arms around her waist and caressed her back. “Well, I figured we should probably get to know more about each other. I was thinking breakfast then I’d like to see where you live. Will that be ok?” She nodded happily. “We can also visit my house and go to a nice dinner. What would you like to do this afternoon though?”

She wiggled her eyebrows in an attempt to be sexy, but instead it was just funny. “Calm down, baby girl.” I chuckled. “There will be plenty of time for that.”

She looked a bit dejected but said, “Something I haven’t done in a while, I’d like to take ride through the country. Just get in a car and go.”

“Really? A drive in the country?” Immediately, my plans for this afternoon settled into place. I’d take her to my country house, fuck her out in the open. Fulfill both her desires at the same time. When she nodded her head enthusiastically, I answered. “That sounds great.”

@mindofasagittaruis @lclb13 @reigns-5sos Reigns, if you don’t want to be tagged, just let me know.

#roman reigns #joe anaoi

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actualbird · 4 years

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nobody asked but here are my personal top five pat gill videos | a 2.1k word long post where i rank and review pat gill’s videos for just way too long.

Right around the tail end of April, 2020, I fell into the rabbit hole of my current obsession; Polygon Dot Com Video Content. As a consequence of this was being introduced to the phenomenon of Pat Gill. A dire consequence of that consequence was me slowly, deeply, irrevocably, finding myself attracted to this marionette of a man. So, I enjoy his content and I think he’s hot and that combined with the fact that some of my friends bully me over that latter fact has inspired me to do this: rank my personal favorite Pat Gill videos in a post that’s entirely too long.

Before I get straight into the rankings, I need to explain my process.

First, I needed to narrow my scope. Polygon has a lot of videos. Polygon has a lot of videos with Pat Gill in them. If I didn’t narrow my scope, I would either go bonkers yonkers or have a list that would be kilometric in length and thus miss the entire point of ranking altogether. So, for my sanity, I am excluding any videos that are a part of a Polygon video series. This means no Overboard, no Gill and Gilbert, no Video Game Theatre, etc. If I included these, I would cry. I do not want to cry over Polygon Dot Com Video Producer Pat Gill.

Second, I need a criteria. If I just ranked videos with no system, I would find myself endlessly rearranging my list based on whatever thought comes out on top in my mind at the given moment. I am a disorganized person, so I need rules. I have decided that I will rank Pat Gill videos using the EEEH criteria.

Entertainment. Do I smile, watching the video? Do I chortle? Am I filled with the embarrassing urge to show this video to my sister and derive glee from her laughing at the exact same moment I laughed? Entertainment is key.

Education. Did I come out of this video knowing something I originally did not know? More importantly, was I engaged in the learning process? I come from a family of teachers, so I have high standards when it comes to education. If I am to learn, I must learn well.

Exaltation. This is a bit of an oddball criteria, but it is important to me. The word “exalted” is defined as “elevated in rank, character, or status.” This criteria refers to how good it is at exalting, elevating, pulling me out of a depressive episode. That is to say I’ve been in a depressive episode for the past month and whether or not the video made me stop crying and brush my teeth is essential. Polygon video content has been integral to my serotonin production lately, and thus the video’s ability of acting as an audiovisual antidepressant for me factors into the rankings.

[BONUS POINTS] Hotness. How Hot Is Pat Gill In It? I felt bad, morally, ranking videos based on how good looking I thought Pat Gill was in it---because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that, and people don’t exist to be beautiful, they just are, and I agree---so I’m relegating this criteria as a bonus point. Standard is 0, because he’s always hot in my mind, but he gets plus points if he is exemplary in the hotness department.

The maximum score for each of these criteria is 5 points, making the perfect score a 15, but because of the bonus points, a 20 is, hypothetically, possible.

With that out of the way, let me dive right into it.

5. The fastest interview ever with Ben Schwartz from Sonic the Hedgehog

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 2 Exaltation: 2 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 11

Pat Gill is a good interviewer, he’s engaging and fun and keeps the interview interesting, but this interview is particularly special because it seems that, and let me quote Youtube user AudreyN who left a comment on this video stating “ben schwartz consumed all seven chaos emeralds prior to this interview.” Pat Gill and Ben Schwartz’s dynamic is amazing, and by “dynamic” I do mean “Ben Schwartz absolutely just fucking dunking on Pat Gill for 14 entire minutes.” and it is glorious.

For Entertainment this scores a solid 5. Quite honestly the funniest interview I’ve ever watched in my entire life. Just the sheer beauty in the exchange [Pat] “You would use Sonic’s power to gaslight me?” [Ben] “Just you.” In terms of Education, I guess I did learn a bunch of things about the Sonic movie that I didn’t know before, but the avenue by which it was portrayed in was not exactly the most engaging, more like I was absorbing it via watching two experts discuss on a webinar. I would have given just 1 point to Education but I made it 2 because of the wonderful knowledge that Pat Gill can draw a pretty good Sonic in a few seconds. When it comes to Exaltation, I must admit that while this video got quite a few laughs out of me, it didn’t make me want to get out of bed and take a shower.

BONUS: Pat is +2 hot in it. His short hair makes him look very handsome. He’s a spiffy boy, in this video. Very, very good.

4. Pat Will Not Tweet at Nintendo This Week Because He is Resting at Home — PLEASE RETWEET, Episode 12

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 0 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +1 Total Score: 11

I know I’m breaking a rule I set for myself a few paragraphs earlier by including an episode of Please Retweet, which counts as a video series, but this is my post and I can do whatever I want. More importantly, this video is so fucking funny to me, it feels like it would be a crime not to put it in this list.

Solid 5 out of 5 for entertainment. Pat Gill, alone in his apartment, drinking six cans of what I think is beer silently while the intro music plays. That scene in itself should win an Oscar. Sadly, a solid 0 for Education, because I learn nothing in this video except for the fact that Pat Gill is the type of person to put out a coaster and then just completely not use it. I quantify things as educational if I can maybe answer a trivia question with them, and unfortunately, this fact does not pass that test. In terms of Exaltation, seeing Pat Gill lie down on the floor next to his cat made me get out of bed to do the same with my dog, and with myself thusly out of my bed cocoon of sadness, I was able to actually complete tasks on the day I watched this video. Perfect 5.

BONUS: Pat is +1 hot in this because there’s something very beautiful about him being a little bit miserable. However, I do miss his beard when I watch this video. It is one of my favorite things about him, and it is not present here.

3. Pat and Simone Play Human: Fall Flat

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 1 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: 0 Total Score: 11

I very much enjoy Polygon’s gameplay streams. I often play them in the background while I’m doing other stuff like doodling or origami, but this stream is special. It is special because of the moment at 24:00 when Pat Gill, in game, swings a stereo into a glass window, shattering it, while saying, “Actually, y’know what? Let’s talk about trauma.” and then proceeds to tell a horrible and embarrassing story from his childhood where he had to do a rap about Ancient Egypt.

5 points for Entertainment. This is partly because of Pat’s tragic childhood story about the Egypt Rap (and, segue just to point out 33:22 the incredible moment where you can hear Pat’s feral panic when Simone finds the lyrics to the Egypt Rap) but also because Pat and Simone just talking to each other is so deeply entertaining to me in a very comfy way. I’m starved for human interaction, in this quarantime, okay. Let me enjoy listening to other people have conversations while playing video games. Education scores a 1 because, again, nothing in this video will let me answer a trivia question, however it does get 1 point and not a 0 because the Egypt Rap’s lyrics are in the comments and I did end up learning stuff about Ancient Egypt that I didn’t know. A perfect 5 for Exaltation because this video showed me that talking about trauma can actually be cathartic, given that you’re trashing a video game living room at the same time, and I think that message of not bottling up your experiences really helped me, in these trying times.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for the entirety of this episode, so he scores the standard 0. I’m sure he was hot. We just couldn’t see him.

2. Why Bloodborne and Muppets are the same thing

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Entertainment: 4 Education: 4 Exaltation: 3 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 12

Ah yes, one of Pat’s “x is y because of z” videos. He’s made a number of these and they’re all very good but this one is my favorite among them and earns a spot on this list because 1) I think puppets are cool and 2) I fucking love monsters.

This video scores a 4 on Entertainment, just shy of perfect, because as funny as it is, it also gives me the vibe like I am being lectured by a professor who’s just a little bit off the shits. And we all know that lectures are supposed to be taken seriously. Which brings us to Education, which also scores a 4. I learned a lot in this video! Watching Pat Gill explain to me that children’s puppets and these horrifying viddy game monsters use the same character principles in different ways is not only very educational but is also explained in a streamline and easy to understand manner that I WISH some of the shitty professors at my old university could emulate. As for Exaltation, while this video did give me enough energy to have a meal, I did eventually end up back in bed for the night at 8pm crying myself to sleep, thinking “I’m like the slime scholar. Used to be a scholar. Now they’re slime.”

BONUS: Pat Gill is +2 hot here. He’s rockin that basic ass monochromatic aesthetic and I love his look dearly.

1. Preparing for Big Boy Season in Red Dead Redemption 2

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 3 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +3 Total Score: 16

Here we are. My favorite non video series Pat Gill video. The video where Pat Gill tries to make Red Dead Redemption 2 protagonist, Arthur Morgan, large.

Perfect fucking 5 for Entertainment, which I’m sure many may find odd. Afterall, this video is told in a serious investigative tone reminiscent of Vox’s videos on current issues. But that’s the glory of it. The complete and utter ‘playing it straight and serious’ for a ridiculous issue in a video game. It is high tier comedy in a subtle, understated way that sings to my comedy loving heart in a melody so lovely, so wonderful, that it urged me to give this video 5 points for Entertainment. It scores 3 on Education, because I have never played Red Dead Redemption 2, nor will I ever, but now I know things about it. The information was also relayed to me in a very interesting style, via something like a crime procedural, and thus it was engaging for me to absorb all this new knowledge. Exaltation scores a perfect 5 because of this video’s beautiful end about existential smallness. No joke, but hearing Pat Gill say “Our bigness isn’t measured in pounds, but in the impact we have on the people with whom we shared the world.” deadass made me want to talk to my friends again after conversationally isolating myself for 3 days. Preparing for Big Boy Season has a special place in my heart. And there it will stay.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for most of the video but he does appear for like 15 seconds in the middle of it, and guess what. He’s hot. +3 hotness. Good beardage, good hair, all in all, good Pat Gill.

So there you have it. My five favorite Pat Gill videos. If you read this whole thing, holy shit. You’re welcome, I guess.

#this is what im using my degree in creative writing for i guess #polygon #pat gill #pat gill thirst jail #patrick gill #nobody asked but

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tardis-stowaway · 5 years

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Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong.

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

#good omens #adam young #good omens headcanons #fanfic #post-canon #please excuse any errors and americanisms #long post #tardis-stowaway's writing & stuff

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1000scrubs · 3 years

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Round 2: Titus Mede II

Writer Titus Mede II ‘s entry for August 2021

ANTONIO ALBUS AURELIUS XVII sat in a chair bearing his name. He was waiting in a dark, seemingly infinite room, remembering neither why he was there nor how he got there. He concentrated hard, trying to think back to remember anything that could help him figure out what the Hell was going on. He could vaguely remember… robes? A stick? No, think harder… a beard? Nothing useful came to Antonio’s poor, empty head. Indeed, it was as empty as this void he was sitting in. But then—

“Bad morning to you,” said the dark-clad man, who had just entered the room from a doorway that had not existed a second earlier. The man was rather large, and after closing the door and turning around, Antonio got a proper look at him. He had a large mustache and an extremely fancy three-piece suit, though the fabric seemed impossibly dark. He had a large hat atop his head, and underneath the brim were his unsettling silver eyes. The look of him gave Antonio a feeling of visceral fear, though he could not tell why.

“Oi, you this pompous Aurelius sounding fella?” asked the man, who spoke in a thick Cockney accent.

“Yes, I am Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII. Where am I?” asked Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII.

“Well, ‘Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII’ — mind if I call you Tony? Nah, of course you don’t — you have been lucky enough to arrive here, in Hell, where you shall spend the rest of eternity being tortured in my district of New Los Angeles! Oh, but I suppose you won’t understand that reference.”

“What in G— in G— what? What in Go—“

“Oh, you can’t say that name here. Don’t even try. It’s a bit petty, if you ask me, but it’s not up to me! Anyway, my name is Tommy. I’m here to answer any questions you have before you are sent into New Los Angeles.”

Though Tommy’s blasé nature made him feel somewhat less uncomfortable, Antonio was rather confused. He had no idea what this “New Los Angeles” is, or how he had ended up in Hell. “Well,” he started, “for starters, I can’t remember a thing about my life on Earth. What exactly did I end up doing to get down here?”

Tommy chuckled. “Oh, where do I start? First of all, practicing the Arcane Arts is an instant no-no to the Big Man Upstairs. Massacring an entire village probably didn’t help either. But what threw you over the edge was definitely the time you—“

“No, no, this has to be some sort of mistake. I didn’t do any of this stuff, I’m a good man! There has to be some sort of trial, or appeal, or something! This isn’t fair!”

“Fair? Tony, you’re in Hell, there is no more ‘fair’. Except Jimmy’s ‘Fun Fair of Fantastical Flying Feet’, were you are mercilessly pelted by— you know, I should stop getting so sidetracked, I’ve got 12,000 other people to orient after you before my shift is over. No, Tony, there’s no appeal, there’s no trial, and I think I’ve answered all of your questions. So peace out, and make sure you follow my TikTok when you get to the Social Media Torture Tower!”

Antonio started to object. “Wait, you haven’t answered my—“ but before he could finish, Tommy was gone, instantly returning through the doorway that had been there a second ago. He was now immensely confused, perhaps even more so than before. However, before Antonio had any time to think about what just happened, or why the demon was so well dressed, he was suddenly sucked through space to another location in the most painful way imaginable.

“Ianuae Magicae!” he shouted instinctively. The pain and the sensation of movement stopped; he had broken through whatever ethereal force had been moving him, and was in what appeared to be an infinitely large library. Antonio scoffed. “Another damned infinitely large room? And full of books? What, is this some kind of nerd kingdom? I’ve just gotta find a way out of here.”

“The exit’s over there,” someone said behind him. Antonio turned around quickly, and was greeted by the sight of a normal librarian, albeit looking extremely tired.

Antonio narrowed his eyes, not knowing what to expect. “Excuse me?”

“You want to leave the library, right? So instead of wandering around and making a racket, there’s the exit. Now get out and let me get back to re-reading the end of the Eragon trilogy, it’s the least terrible thing in this library.”

Antonio didn’t want to be in the vicinity of anyone who would even think of reading something like that recreationally, so he took her advice and left through the doorway she pointed out. He then found himself in an infinite-looking corridor, which looked like something right out of a 1980s office building. Antonio started walking aimlessly, but what seemed like hours later, he was still going down the same corridor with no end in sight. Fed up with his predicament, he opened the nearest door and went in. It turned out to be an elevator, so he clicked on the top level and waited.

When Antonio’s eyes finally opened, he could not quite understand what he was looking at. It seemed he had fallen asleep during the impossibly long elevator trip, but having arrived at the top, he was now seeing a gigantic, gothic-styled room that was entirely colored in black with red accents. The wall to his right was one giant, uninterrupted window, with a red hue shining from the outside. In front of the middle of the window was an ominous looking throne and a desk, with a villainous chandelier hanging above. Running out of adjectives to describe this room, Antonio noted the oppressive and boiling hot atmosphere inside the room before stepping inside. He sat down at the throne and started going through the desk, finding many files that seemed to detail the various operations of Hell. Antonio finally realized… he was sitting in the Devil’s chair.

“That’s kinda neat-o,” he thought to himself. As anyone would, he immediately went to look for his file. “Hmm, ‘Antony A. Augustine’, ‘Anthony A. Andreas’… ah, here we go, ‘Antonio A. Aurelius'! Oh, of course there are 17 of them… there it is: ‘Antonio A. Aurelius XVII’”

Antonio opened his file and was shocked to see the photograph inside. He saw a picture of a rather horrific looking man, with a gaunt and sickly looking face, terrible hair, and unsettling eyes. Shrugging this disturbing revelation aside, he looked back into the file and started reading it. “Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII, born in 13th century Tuscany? Exemplary record… lived a nearly flawless early life? If only he hadn’t chosen to become a necromancer!?”

This deeply shook Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII. Though it turned out Tommy had been exaggerating, as Antonio had apparently lived a good life outside of necromancy. Nobody had liked him of course, being a heretic necromancer who looked like some kind of cheap horror movie character, but Antonio had still provided valuable services when people had needed them. “I shouldn’t be here,” he thought. “I should be up in Heaven. I can only imagine how many other mistakes like this have been made…”

Antonio looked around some more and found a computer in Satan’s desk. He wouldn’t have thought that they used computers in Hell, but it made more and more sense the more he thought about it. Naturally, Satan’s password was “password”, and Antonio decided he would take advantage of the situation to implement some cosmic justice. He would bring balance to the universe, being a righteous man given the power of God.

After typing in a few commands, Antonio hit the return key like it had owed him money. Satisfied, he got up and turned around to look out of the massive panoramic window. He could see a vast ocean of lava, with a coast that was blackened and rocky, looking inhabitable and yet lit up with the bright lights of many settlements, which were all doubtless places where the residents of Hell were tortured. As he watched, he saw hundreds of bright beams of light flash from the muddy red sky straight down to the ground. He smiled to himself, just as he heard a colossal crash behind him.

“What in the Hell,” bellowed the Devil, “has conspired here?” The Devil walked into the room, the ruined remains of the main door behind him. His voice sounded of pure power, with an impossibly booming level of bass that Antonio could feel in his bones. He was the size of 3 men, with a large forked tail and two large horns protruding out of his forehead, which was maroon, matching the rest of his body. “I’m taking my first vacation in millennia, enjoying my time in San Diego, when I’m informed that some unauthorized low-life scum is in my personal office? And not just any unauthorized low-life scum, a resident?”

The Devil looked Antonio up and down, his glowing red eyes seeming to see straight into every cell in Antonio’s body. His sharp teeth became visible through his grin, then he started laughing. “Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII? You’ve just made your stay here in Hell… so much worse.”

With a motion of Satan’s hands, Antonio was restrained by some glowing red binds. Before Satan could continue, an extremely fit man dressed in white robes blasted straight through the panoramic window with contempt. He had short black hair with piercing, almost luminescent blue eyes. His clean-shaven jaw looked sharp enough to use as a weapon, and everything about him made Antonio feel inferior in every way. Even looking at the man for too long started to make his eyes hurt. Effortlessly hovering in the air, now with no discernible expression of emotion, he went over to Satan and looked him straight in the eyes. Satan, on the other hand, was seemingly unable to hold his gaze, and looked away.

“The Lord would like to express His dissatisfaction with you, Lucifer,” he said matter-of-factly in an extremely posh-sounding British accent, his voice sounding impossibly clear and extremely commanding. “There is a holy pact that has gone back to the founding of the universe. I know your kind doesn’t take kindly to any amount of reason or honor, but even I didn’t expect you to do something like this.”

Before the intimidating-looking man from Heaven could continue, Satan interjected. “I have done nothing of the sort, knave! This is the work of this dark magician, Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII.”

The man from Heaven turned around and sighed heavily. “Please, you expect me to believe that? You lot really are pathetic.”

Satan growled with irritation. He turned to Antonio. “What did you do?” he asked in a low, hushed voice.

Antonio smiled to himself and puffed up his chest, entirely overconfident and forgetting his place. “I have done what you are either too evil or too unintelligent to do,” he said, looking at both Satan and the well-dressed man from Heaven, the latter of whom immediately raised his eyebrow. “I have sent the best half of all people in Hell to Heaven. These people did not deserve to be here. They made mistakes in life, yes, but were ultimately good people.

The immaculately dressed man from Heaven scoffed. He turned to Lucifer and said, “Do you take the Lord and all of us in Heaven for fools, expecting us to believe this utter shamble? Could you have not picked a more convincing low-life to take the fall for you?”

“I know nothing of the situation!” Satan shouted angrily. He started storming over to the computer. Antonio stood by, unflinching, in total confidence that he had done the right thing.

“I mean, seriously,” continued the really very fancy looking man from Heaven. “If you’re going to come up with some pathetic excuse, don’t pick one we will so obviously know isn’t true. There has been no such influx of your heathenry to Heaven. Spending so much time down here really does reduce God’s creations to absolute worthlessness.”

Antonio was confused upon hearing this. How did none of the people he freed show up in Heaven? And why is the man from Heaven so rude? All of a sudden, he heard a bellowing roar from Satan, who promptly punched him with cosmic force. Antonio flew across the room, before hitting a television mounted on the wall. The force of the impact completely destroyed the TV, and Antonio was now lying on the ground reeling in pain.

“Do you realize what you have done!?” Satan was furious. “You will burn in the deepest circle of Hell for all eternity—I will torture you myself!”

The impeccably dressed man from Heaven scoffed again. “Are you seriously pretending to not know what happened? A man of God such as myself will not be so easily fooled by your pathetic tricks, Lucifer.”

“Don’t call me that! And you—” he turned to Antonio, who was now entirely aware that he was little more than an ant compared to everyone else in the room, then continued. “All you have done is send the WORST half of all people in Hell back to EARTH!”

The man with a perfect sense of fashion from Heaven interjected before the Devil could continue. “Finally, you admit to your wrongdoings, you traitorous wretch! I trust you realize that this surely means war, I was sent here to find out why this has happened and I have found no compelling reason whatsoever!”

The Devil sat still for a moment. “I suppose there is nothing else to be done in this situation.” He picked up a mobile phone and started typing an angry Tweet announcing his intentions. After he finished, he moved over to his desk, where he drafted and signed a document that was naturally written using someone’s blood. Probably someone who hated pens, documents, or both. He then got up and handed it to the hovering man from Heaven.

“A declaration of war? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, coming from such animals as you. I shall take this up to the Lord Himself, who shall surely destroy you once and for all. See you never,” he said, before flying straight out of the window and disappearing into the sky, sending a sonic boom echoing throughout Hell. Satan then turned to face Antonio, who was nowhere in sight.

Antonio, still in disbelief that he had manage to slip away undetected, was running as fast as he could to try and get as much distance between himself and the Devil as possible. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t looking where he was going, and ran straight into a guardrail with enough speed to flip straight over it, helplessly falling straight into some sort of magic portal that was stationed several miles below.

Antonio awoke again, though this time instead of being presented with the depressing sight of Satan’s office, he could feel a pleasant breeze on his face and grass beneath him. Sitting up, he looked around to see grassy rolling hills with a city in the distance. The view was short-lived, though, as soon a large aircraft dropped a gigantic bomb, destroying the entire city in one blast. Not ten seconds later, a missile shot up from the top of a faraway hill, striking the plane and destroying its wing. The plane faltered, then fell out of the sky, crashing down into a field with all of its explosives onboard, causing an even more massive explosion that wiped out a nearby town. Antonio heard gunfire behind him, and turned around to see two armies fighting each other. The two armies ran at each other and Antonio could only imagine the ridiculous amount of bloodshed going on.

Suddenly, amidst the fighting of the two armies, a giant red portal opened up out of the Earth. Soldiers started falling in, only to come flying back out impaled on the horns of giant red demons that had erupted out of the portal. The demons landed on the ground and promptly started tearing both armies to pieces. Before Antonio could even comprehend what was happening, another giant white portal appeared in the sky. Hundreds of people who looked similar to the man from Heaven he saw earlier flew out like Supermen, some riding on giant chanting chariots, all of them without any weapons at all. The demons, seeing this, roared with ferocity and left into the sky to fight them, with the humans, now fighting side by side on the ground, shooting at their backs. The angels and demons met some thousand feet off the ground, combining cosmic blows that destroyed everything on the ground for miles. It seemed as though each angel could easily destroy a hundred demons at a time, but more and more demons kept appearing. More and more fighting was happening, clearing away anything and everything else in the sky, and knocking Antonio hundreds of feet along the ground even though he was far, far away from the fight.

Stunned, Antonio sat up again, ears ringing and completely covered in dust and debris from the blasts in the distance. Through his blurred vision he looked around him. The countryside was destroyed, and the cosmic forces were nowhere to be seen, surely having moved the fight elsewhere. Antonio tried to stand, but his body was too sore from being thrown about. He blacked out.

Antonio awoke once more, and now was greeted with the sight of a hospital. The inside of a hospital, that is. In fact, now that he’s waking up properly, Antonio noticed that this hospital was completely overcrowded. The nurse came over and looked him up and down. “I’m not sure why you’re still here, but get up and get out. Go down the hall and to the left.”

He wasn’t particularly surprised by her rudeness, given the circumstances, so he got up and went down the hall she mentioned. Even in the hall, there were bandaged people strewn all about the ground. “This is truly apocalyptic,” Antonio thought to himself, trying not to think about how he had caused it all. Upon reaching the end of the hall, he decided that he was a maverick, and went right instead of left. After a short walk, he found himself in what appeared to be a recruitment center.

“Another recruit— oh, God, you’re an ugly one aren’t you?” noted a man with an extremely well-featured face was sitting at a desk. “Never mind that, all able-bodied discharges go through there,” he said, pointing to a door just past his desk. Antonio, deciding that being a maverick hadn’t been very beneficial for him, elected to do as the man said. In a blur, he was given armor and a strange weapon, and loaded into a large metal carriage that seemed to drive itself with a bunch of other men, many of whom were covered in bandages. Antonio judged he was somewhere in the American Midwest, though the world had devolved into complete chaos as millions of the worst people who ever lived had been brought back to life.

From talking with the other soldiers, Antonio had learned that several major nations had been taken over by some of these people, who had immediately started violent wars in as many parts of the world as they could manage. Most large cities had already been destroyed by bombs they called “nuclear”, and now that the demons and angels were fighting each other, even more of the world had been completely destroyed. One soldier even said that Mount Everest had been completely leveled. Antonio was completely wracked with guilt, knowing he had caused all of this.

Suddenly the transport stopped, and the commander shouted to Antonio and his fellow soldiers to get out. Antonio got out and ran, before looking back and seeing a demon flying straight into his transport. An angel flew up and emitted a pure white beam of light from his bare hand, which shot straight into the demon and obliterated him.

“Children of God,” he started, turning to the soldiers. “Fear not, for the Lord shall protect you. Retreat to safety, and let us handle this threat.” He then rose into the air, and flew impossibly fast into the distance, causing a massive sonic boom that startled all the soldiers.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Antonio asked his commander.

The commander sat and thought for some time. “Listen,” he began. “We are completely outgunned in this fight. I think the flying man is right, we have no hope of defeating the enemy with what we have. There’s an old nuclear bunker 20 klicks that way.” He pointed to his left side, then continued, “Carry your weapons with you, let’s march.”

About 10 miles in, the march was disrupted. Right in front of the group, a demon came crashing down after being thrown what looked like hundreds of miles. Still disoriented, he opened his eyes and tried to look around.

“Fire! Fire! Give it everything you’ve got!” bellowed the commander. Every soldier opened fire, pumping hundreds of rounds into the demon. After what felt like 5 minutes of straight shooting, they let up. The demon looked as though he had merely been shot with a super soaker, and just looked at them. Seeing the terror on their faces, he smiled, and stood up, but then stopped after hearing a loud boom behind him. He turned around and couldn’t see anything, but suddenly an angel flew down out of the sky and kicked his head clean off. The angel turned to face the soldiers, and despite all of the brutal fighting, there wasn’t a single speck of dirt anywhere on her. Her long, flowing golden hair didn’t even look the slightest bit disturbed.

“You should all get to safety,” she said in what sounded like a Greek accent. “We are pushing the enemy back, but it’s still not safe to be out here. We will let you know when the demons have all been taken care of, and remember that you are all under the Lord’s eternal protection.” She then flew far up into the sky, until Antonio couldn’t see her anymore.

“Let’s keep marching,” said the commander. “The sooner we get to that bunker, the better.” They resumed the march, and only saw fighting happening in the distance for the rest of the trip. Upon arriving at the bunker, they turned on the radios and waited for their all-clear signal. And they waited. And waited some more. Until Antonio couldn’t bear waiting, and faded into darkness.

Antonio opened his eyes, as he had done many times after being stuck in that bunker. They waited 2 years for the all-clear signal, emerging from the bunker to see practically nothing left on the surface. The angels remained on Earth for some time to regenerate the natural resources that had been destroyed, then most left. The few who stayed provided support for some time, but then they left as well. Antonio traveled around for several years afterwards, trying to find somewhere proper to stay, but the world had largely been thrown back into the pre-industrial era. Nevertheless he persisted, traveling across the North American continent to help whom he could. Instead of necromancy, he learned healing magic to try and aid the people he came across along the way.

One day, Antonio found an old map of the United States. He instantly recognized most of the regions he had visited, but one area stuck out to him as strange. “Wyoming?” He’d never heard of this place, nor had he ever been there. He decided that this is where he would visit next, and after a few months of being on the road, he finally arrived and was shocked to see that it seemed entirely untouched.

After traveling into the city outskirts, Antonio looked around. Many people walked about freely with not a care in the world, all of them looking pristine in luxurious looking clothing. They reminded Antonio of the angels he had seen, though that must’ve just been how people looked right before the apocalypse. There were so many cars on the road that they actually had to stop and line up in turns to wait for each other, and all were driven by regular people rather than military personnel. Antonio looked back at the sidewalk and saw a man walking towards him. He held a small black slab in his hand that shone on his face, and was wearing very high quality clothing. Antonio walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder .

“What happened here?” Antonio asked, stunned at what he had just seen.

“Hey, what the hell? Watch yourself buddy, or I’ll call the police! Now I don’t know if you want any money or anything, but why don’t you go beg somewhere else instead of bothering me, ok?” He turned around and started walking away. Antonio grabbed his shoulder again, this time not letting go.

“What happened here? This place looks like it wasn’t destroyed in the war, that’s impossible!”

“War? What are you talking about? Are you pretending to be a time traveler or something? Or are you one of those people who like to play dress-up? And God, you reek, get away from me!”

Antonio grabbed him with both hands. “The war, the angels and the demons, it was years ago! Back in 2021!”

“Look, dude, I’m calling the cops. There was no ‘war’ in 2021, all that happened was the electrical grid crash and all the movies got canceled.” He started fiddling with his device, but then got frustrated and gave up. “And the damn cell service went to shit. But I’m pretty sure we would’ve noticed if there was a war.”

Antonio was in disbelief. “The rest of your country is destroyed! The entire world is destroyed! This state of ‘Wyoming’ is the only place left, and you don’t even know what happened?”  The man from Wyoming shrugged. “To be honest… we don’t really pay attention to the rest of the world. And they don’t pay any attention to us. What you’re saying… it would sort of make sense why all those movies never came out… do you have any photos of it on your phone?”  Antonio collapsed to the ground. “So what you’re telling me is,” he started, out of breath. “This place was left untouched… because everyone forgot about it?”

“Yeah, probably. I dunno, dude. I think I should probably call someone to come get you.” He started looking around, before pulling his glowing slab back out again.

“No, no… I don’t understand… just give me a moment.” Antonio lay down on the ground and covered his face. He could hear the murmurs of other pedestrians watching in confusion. Soon he sat back up and looked around, only to see a seemingly endless sea of faces in front of him. “Wait, no… please…” He turned to look at the man he had been speaking with, but he was no longer there.

The crowd parted, and two mustached men dressed in blue uniforms donning gleaming silver badges came through. Antonio couldn’t comprehend what was happening. They restrained him and put him in the back of a car. Antonio watched the surreal sight of the city pass him by; everything looked exactly as it must have been before the apocalypse. Antonio had not been in a car for many years, and the sensation of moving so fast was starting to make him sick.

Thankfully, the car stopped outside of a large, intimidating building. The uniformed men dragged him in and up to a woman standing by a desk.

“What is your name?” the woman asked him.

“I am Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII. I am from Tuscany of the 13th Century. I died and went to Hell, but accidentally caused the apocalypse when I tried to send half of the people in Hell to Heaven.”

“Oh, really? Here, walk with me, and you can tell me all about it.” Antonio started following the woman down the hallway.

“Yes. I’m a necromancer, you see. Or, I was. But that’s why I was in Hell. I somehow managed to get into the Devil’s offices, and on his computer I tried to send the best half of people to Heaven. It was a sort of cosmic justice, you know?”

“Oh, for sure,” the woman responded. Antonio could sense that she wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation, but he continued nonetheless.

“Yeah, so it turns out I got it backwards, I suppose. I sent the worst half of people to Earth, instead of the best half to Heaven. So this angel came down and Satan ended up declaring war, I suppose.”

“Angels and demons, eh? I’m all ears,” the woman said, completely uninterested.

“I managed to escape, and then I somehow ended up back on Earth. This was way back in 2021, of course, before the apocalypse. Which happened immediately after I returned. There were already nuclear wars and whatnot, but the war of the angels and demons really devastated the world, you know?”

The woman nodded. “Of course, we all saw it, right?”

“Yeah, finally, someone who knows what happened! So I ended up in a bunker during the war, for several years while the angels finished off the demons. Then I traveled around the country, I learned proper healing magic so that I could help people. Then I heard of this place, ‘Wyoming’, and came over here to check it out. You guys seem to be the only part of the world that was left untouched. It seems as though everybody forgot you existed.”

“Yes, we are used to that; that was a fascinating story, but we’ve arrived at your room. You can stay here as long as you like, you’ll be perfectly safe and taken care of.”

Antonio was startled, but very excited at this news. “Oh, thank you so much!” He eagerly rushed into the room, which was largely empty. “Hey, wait, this room doesn’t even have a—” He was cut off by the door closing and locking. The room was padded, and there was nothing but a light in the roof and a bed in the corner. Antonio knocked on the doors for hours, trying to get someone to talk to him, but nobody answered. Eventually, some food slipped through a hatch in the wall, and some time after that he was restrained and escorted to a restroom. He tried to talk to the guards, but they didn’t respond, and he was locked back in the room.

Eventually, Antonio lost track of the days, the months, then the years. One day, he fell asleep on his bed as he had done thousands of times before, but when he woke, he sat in a familiar black void. An invisible door opened, and he saw a familiar face come through.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII.” He laughed fiendishly. “We’ve been waiting for you down here. Let’s see…” He pulled out Antonio’s file, then continued, “Necromancy. Nasty business, that. But let’s just skip this part and get to the real juicy bit.” He licked his finger, then flipped the page. “Insurrection against the natural order. Impersonating the Devil. Unauthorized actions compromising the realm of Hell. Actions causing the release of people from Hell. Returning to Earth without permission. Actions directly causing the death of millions on Earth. And perhaps the worst of all: directly causing the Intergalactic Wyoming Empire to become the dominant human civilization—for the foreseeable future, at least. Seriously?” He leaned in closely, then continued, “they would never have known if you never went there!”

He slammed the file shut with a satisfied grin on his face. “There’s a special place down here for you. I don’t think any human has ever been there, so congratulations on becoming the first! You should take it as a compliment, really,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair. He began fiddling with his mustache. “And I suppose I can use it as bragging rights. ‘Tommy, the torturer who was once assigned to the infamous Tony Aurelius!’ I like the sound of that!” He laughed again. “Oi, mind if I take a quick video of the two of us for my socials? I could use this cred’. And you’ll probably look disfigured forevermore once the Boss starts his work on you, so I should get in early y’know?”

Antonio, having not listened to Tommy for some time, did not respond, but only hung his head in shame. He didn’t know what was in store for him, but he did feel that he deserved it. He had officially become the worst person to have ever lived.

——-

Who: A necromancer with a heart of gold What: Causes the apocalypse When: The year 2021 Where: In Hell Why: To bring balance to the universe

#5w story #short story #writeblr #writing #titus mede ii #august 2021 #fiction #short fiction #apocalypse #death

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faofinn · 3 years

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Febuwhump Day 4 - “I can’t lose you too” (Alt Prompt 2)

@febuwhump

Part 1 // Part 2

Sheila was working when the call came through, her phone buzzing uselessly in her locker. By the time her break came round, it was a long while later, her battery nearly dead and several missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. Food in the microwave, she perched against the bench and pressed play.

“Sheila? Sheila ‘m sorry. They asked me who I wanted to call an’ -and I didn’t know who else. ‘m really scared and I’m in hospital and you always said I could call.” Her heart sank, fear taking over. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone an’ I couldn’t remember your number. I don’t even know if this is your number still. I fucked up and I’m sorry. You an’ Fred were the best family an’ you did so much for me an-and I’ve done this. I didn’t have time to do anything and then I was here. You were a mum to me, and Fred was the best … best dad I had...I’m sorry. I don’t wanna be alone, Sheila. I know you’re busy and you’ve probably forgotten me and I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”

The beep sounded and she didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. It had been a few months since she’d heard from him, and even then it was just a passing text to tell her happy birthday. He was still her child, one of her first fosters, and still family. He sounded in a bad way and she could hear the flurry of activity in the hospital around the panic in his voice. It took no time to make her mind up, briefly telling a colleague she was going before disappearing, her lunch still in the microwave.

She tried Fred on the way, to no avail, leaving him a slightly more composed voicemail than had been left on hers. The hospital was no luck either, stuck on hold until the dialing rang out.

The car was left abandoned in the carpark as she rushed through to the ED, pushing past the queue at the desk. “Hi, sorry, my son was brought in earlier - Jason Hardy - I got a phone call from him.”

“Just a second ma’am, there’s a queue.”

“Yeah, it’ll take two seconds. Jason Hardy. Can you tell me where he is?”

With an irritated sigh, the receptionist tapped away on the computer, face falling slightly. “I’m just going to get a nurse.”

Sheila knew it was bad, she’d heard the panic and desperation in his voice, and seeing the look on the receptionist’s face...it only made it worse.

A nurse arrived to greet Sheila quite quickly, a forced smile on her face. “Sheila Daniels?”

“Is he still alive?”

“He is. He’s in a bad way, but he’s alive. We’re gonna take you through now.”

She followed her through. “How bad is he? I got the phone call…”

“It’s touch and go, I’m afraid.”

She swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“There was a car accident.”

“No.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“We’re doing our best.”

She knew what that meant. “So, no.”

“You know we can’t make any promises. But we’re doing our absolute best to give him the best shot.”

“I’ve been through it before with my other two. You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I'm not lying to you, I promise. We're doing our best for him.”

"I don't doubt you are, but I know what it means, when you say that. The look you all have…"

“I’m sorry. It’s a difficult situation.”

"He was one of my first fosters." Sheila said quietly. "Stayed with me a long while, and then would come and stay for reprieve occasionally."

“That’s very admirable of you. Foster parents are such a lifeline. I’m sure he’ll appreciate you being here.” The nurse said, letting herself into the ICU.

"He said he couldn't remember my number. I should have been here."

“You’re here now, that’s what counts. No use dwelling on the ‘should haves’.”

She shook her head. "That doesn't make it better."

“I know it’s difficult, but we can’t change the past. You’re here now, and he’ll appreciate you being here.”

Sheila hesitated. "How bad is he?"

“Critical, but he’s been improving gradually.”

"Surgery?"

“Hopefully later, if he’s stable enough.”

"If."

“With the way things are going, he’ll be in surgery later this afternoon. But it’s the surgeon’s decision when they see him.”

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

“His bed is just down here.” She said, leading her down the ward.

Sheila thanked her again, stood outside Jason's bay. He'd grown since she'd last seen him, a beard growing on his face and his blond hair a mess. She couldn't help but frown; it was parted wrong, and he'd always hated that.

"Jason?" She took his hand. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm here now. I've got you, yeah?"

The nurses gave Sheila as much space as they could, giving her time to sit with her old foster. He was in and out of consciousness, and definitely very, very poorly, but there was no doubt he knew she was there. His obs even improved a little.

She sorted his hair, adjusted the specs on his nose, and then waited. She'd get the occasional response from him as she chatted away, promising him they'd have a room for him to get him back on his feet.

After a while, the surgeon arrived, startled by Sheila in the bay. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think there was family with him.”

"I've not long been here, sorry."

“Well, I'm glad he has someone. I'm Dr Knight, one of the senior surgical registrars on his case. I'm happy to have a chat with you?”

She nodded. "Do you need to go somewhere else? Or can we stay here?"

“No, absolutely fine to stay here.” He said, taking a seat. “Are you his mother?”

"Uh, I guess. I was his foster mum for a long, long time."

“Well, that's good enough in my books. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you've been told already, he's very unwell. We've been trying to get him stable enough for surgery for a while now, I've just come to do some final checks before we make our decision.”

"If you don't take him to surgery, what's the prognosis?"

“Not good, I'm afraid. He had a procedure after he was admitted to control his internal bleeding, but unfortunately it's not worked as well as we'd hoped it would. He's very weak.”

"And if you wait a few days, let him get some strength up?"

“We think it's more likely he'll deteriorate in that time. We have a small window of opportunity here.”

"And this surgery, how...how likely is it to succeed?" She barely dared to ask.

“It's a hail mary, I'm afraid. But it's better than doing nothing. His best shot at recovery.” He reached out to rest a hand on her knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I understand this is incredibly difficult to hear. This isn't a decision we're taking lightly. But he's young and he deserves the best possible chance, even if the odds are slim.”

She shook her head. "It isn't fair on him."

“You don't agree with our decision to do this surgery?”

"Oh, no, no. Not that. All of this. He shouldn't be here. He was meant to have his life sorted and be living. Not stuck in limbo." She sniffed, trying to stop the tears.

“Ah. I understand this is upsetting - nobody deserves to be in this situation. We're going to do our absolute best for him. We have been doing our absolute best for him from the start. None of us would be considering this surgery if we didn't believe it was in his best interests.” He handed her a tissue, neatly folded in his pocket. “I know I said we have a window of opportunity, but there's time for you to spend with him now. We're not going to rush in just yet.”

"If he needs it, if it's his best chance, then he should go now though, right? So he can come out sooner, and start to recover?"

“We still have some preparations to do first. I'm just here to assess his condition. He seems to have improved since you've arrived.” He said gently. “We'll take him as soon as we're ready for him. But I just wanted to make sure you knew that you have time to spend with him now.”

She forced a smile. "Thank you. For everything."

“Not a problem. I know how difficult this is. Please don't hesitate to grab the nurses if you need anything at all. Can I get someone to bring you food? Something to drink?”

"No, thank you. I'm okay. I'll just stay with him for the time being."

He nodded. “That's absolutely fine. But we can provide you with food, tea, anything. This is probably harder for you than it is for him.”

"Yeah. He'd tell me off for crying, sorry. It was just a bit of a shock."

“Of course, of course. Don't apologise, please. In your position I'd be a sobbing mess.”

"I've had a bit of practice over the years." She laughed slightly. "Normally always the boys, too."

“Other fosters?”

She nodded. "Quite a few. Some of the scraps they'd get themselves into...I'm just being a pain, don't let me keep you."

“Not a pain in the slightest. I just need to do a few checks, yeah?”

"Go ahead. Don't let me get in the way."

He nodded and stood up, though rested a gentle hand on her shoulder before he moved to check Jason over. Thankfully he had improved, and he was happy they were making the right decision.

“I ought to go now, and make sure things are being sorted. But you're more than welcome to ask the nurses for me, or any of his team. We'd be happy to come down and speak with you again if you need.”

"Thank you." She glanced at him with a small smile before turning back to face Jason. He was her priority.

The surgeon left her alone again, save for the occasional nurse popping in to check on him. She apologised again, in his brief moment of consciousness, smoothing his hair back down. Fred still didn’t answer his phone, leaving her alone, dealing with the mess herself.

They gave Sheila as much time as they could. It wasn't ideal, but she needed all the time she could get. Eventually they had no choice, though, and they had to go ahead with the surgery. They sent in a nurse with a porter, as much as Chris wanted to be there, he couldn't. He had too much to do.

Sheila held her tears in as she said her goodbyes, promising him she’d be there when he came round. She held his hand as long as she could, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she was forced to leave.

“I love you, yeah? It won’t be long and then it’ll be okay. I love you.”

They took him after that, the nurse sending Sheila a sad smile.

The surgery was difficult, and unfortunately it didn't get easier as they went on. He was just too unstable, they couldn't do what they wanted to do. They were thwarted by low blood pressure and arrests looming before the inevitable occurred. They tried and tried, but his body just wasn't strong enough. They had to call it a day, in the end. It wasn't fair to try and keep going when his body had had enough.

It was Fao who called time of death, and so it was him who took the responsibility of speaking to next of kin. He headed out of theatres, heart heavy, and round to the relatives room to find them.

He couldn't help the way his heart dropped when he saw who was sitting waiting. Sheila. He stumbled slightly, pain flaring in his knee, and he forced himself to keep going.

“I'm looking for family of Jason Hardy?” He said, trying his best to stay sounding professional.

Sheila raised her head, she knew that voice, knew that tone. "No."

He cleared his throat. “Would you mind coming with me?”

"Fao this isn't real, he's still okay, right? You just had to stop it early for a different reason."

“I'm sorry. Come with me? We can go somewhere quiet to talk.”

She swallowed thickly, standing on shaking legs. It was all just a dream. He was fine, he had to be.

He led her into a small, private room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took a deep breath, and sat down opposite her.

“We did our very best. We made some good progress, but unfortunately he was just too weak. Despite our best efforts to try and stabilise him, he went into cardiac arrest. We tried for some time to resuscitate him, but unfortunately we were,” he paused to clear his throat, “unfortunately we were unsuccessful. He passed away. I'm so sorry.”

She already knew, could tell from the look on his face, the tone in his voice. It was still something else to be told it outright, and worse further that it was her own son telling her. She wrapped her arms around herself, forcing herself to breathe past the lump in her throat.

Fao cleared his throat again. “I know this is difficult to hear, and I'm sorry I don't have better news for you. I assure you that we did everything we could for him.”

"Are you sure it was him?" Her voice cracked.

“I’m sure. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

"You're lying."

“I know this is difficult to process. I promise you, I’ve told you the truth.”

“You’re wrong. You’re lying. You’re wrong.”

“I understand this is hard to hear. If you’d like, you’re welcome to go and see him?”

“You don’t understand.” She frowned at him. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Can you help me understand? I’m willing to explain everything, if that would help?”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone.”

“I can assure you, he wasn’t in any pain.”

“But he was.”

“We did our best to keep his pain well managed.”

“He was in pain and terrified.”

Fao swallowed thickly. “My colleagues did our best to reassure him and ensure his pain was well controlled. He was under anaesthesia, I can assure you he wouldn’t have been in pain when he passed.”

“You didn’t hear the voicemail.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. If you want to take the matter further, I can give you the number for the hospital PALS department? But I can assure you we did our best to make him comfortable.”

"You don't mean any of that." She frowned at him. "You're just reading off a script. You don't care."

“I care about every patient I treat.” His voice wobbled. “I did everything I could for him, as did my colleagues.” He forced himself to take another deep breath. “I know I’m not the person you want giving you this news. But I would never do any procedure if I didn’t think it was in the patient’s best interests. I wouldn’t have suggested this option for Jason if I didn’t think he could benefit from it.”

Sheila rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. The wobble in Fao's voice broke her and she reached out for him.

He handed her a tissue. “Here, it’s alright. I know this is hard to hear.” He said, moving closer to her.

She pushed the tissue away, choosing instead to grab onto Fao and pull him close. Her fingers tightened around his scrubs and she buried her face in Fao's shoulder.

Instinctively he held her close, rubbing her back. “It’s alright. I know this is hard, I know. It’s okay.”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, he’s gone.”

Her legs buckled as she sobbed, the pain completely overtaking her.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He soothed.

She gripped onto him tighter. “I should have been there for him.”

“You were. You were right there with him. Chris and the nurses said the whole time you were there, his obs improved.”

“But he didn’t make it.”

“His odds were slim the minute he came through our doors. We all knew that - he knew that. We gave it our best shot, but…” Fao had to clear his throat again, “but his body told us that he’d had enough. Sometimes despite everything, there’s nothing more we can do.”

She was quiet a moment. “I’m glad it was you.”

“If I’d have known…”

“But I know you’d have done everything.”

“Of course. We all did.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

“Can...Can you stay with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fred wouldn’t answer and I dont know what Finn’s up to.” She sniffed. “They need to know..”

“Do you want me to try Fred?”

Sheila nodded. “Please.”

“Alright. Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?” He offered, digging in his pockets for his phone.

“Just you.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He said, finding his phone and quickly calling Fred.

She leant into him, tears still falling and her chest aching. She couldn't quite believe it, he was gone and there was nothing she could do.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” He murmured gently, praying Fred picked up the phone.

The phone rang through, like it had so many times with Sheila. She shook her head as she heard the voicemail, pressing closer to Fao. Deep down, she knew that she should be there for him, not the other way around. He shouldn't be having to tell her that her son was dead.

“I bet he’s left it somewhere.” Fao said, trying to make his tone light. “You know what he’s like. Come on, why don’t we go and get some fresh air? And then I can take you to see Jason when they’re ready.”

"You're still working."

“I’d say I was due a break, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded with a shaky breath. "Okay."

He stood, and offered her his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She took it, gripping him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“God, why are you sorry?”

“You had to work on him.” Her voice cracked and wobbled. “I know that’s hard.”

“I didn’t know him, Mum. I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I know you beat yourself up over these things.”

He hummed. “We all did our best. I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

She bit her lip to stop her sob, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. The grief was overwhelming, stirring up so many more unwanted emotions.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

She shook her head, dropping Fao’s hand in favor of hugging him. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, máthair. Promise.”

“I can’t lose you too.”

Fao made a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m here. You’re not going to lose me.”

She pulled back to look at him, tears flooding her face. “I can’t lose you. You’re my son.”

Fao pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, yeah?”

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capsiclesteebrogers · 4 years

Text

Redemption Arc Done Right

Okay, here is the post that nobody asked for, but I decided to make it either way. I already made a short post about how I think The Weeping Monk’s arc is similar to Jaime Lannister’s but now I will elaborate because it bogs my mind still.

SPOILERS FOR CURSED BELOW!

If you haven’t finished watching the show I recommend you don;t read it because I will give spoilers. So read it on your own risks.

So as I previously stated, The Weeping Monk reminded me heavily of Jaime Lannister from GOT and the similarities poped up episode after episode which made me think that his arc may be similar to Jaime and that it would make a lot of sense to be like that. Let me present to you my arguments.

1) Looking alike

What striked me first was how similar Lancelot (that’s The Weeping Monk’s real name) is to Jaime in terms of appereance. This may be personal, but I doubt I am the only who looked at both of them and saw how alike in features they are. They both have dirty blonde hair (Lancelot keeps his in a man bun but the writers were cowards and didn’t let Jaime have a man bun as well), a sharp jawline, a beard (although Lancelot’s is not as long as Jaime’s) and a slim but muscular figure. I will insert two pictures here so you can see for yourself (I have taken them from Google Images and don’t know who originally posted them).

SEE WHAT I MEAN? The resemblence is right here! I especially thought they looked similar when Lancelot fought the evil paladins and he got a bit bloody and it reminded me of when Jaime was Robb’s prisoner.

2) The Red Paladins aka Lannister Army

This may not be very obvious, but if you rewatch the last episode of Cursed (Season 1, Episode 10: The Sacrifice) and look at the Red Paladins’ tents you’ll see what I’m talking about. Now, their tents are white and the Lannister’s are red but the Paladins have red associated with them throughout the show. Look at this and tell me it doesn’t resemble the Paladins’ army.

Maybe it’s just me but it’s oddly familiar. I also say the Paladins’ resemble the Lannister army because Father Cardan’s relationship with Lancelot is somewhat similar to Tywin’s relationship with Jaime. They both expect their “sons” to live up to their expectations and be perfect soldiers. And yet both Jaime and Lancelot stand out and don’t fit in the crowd. Jaime because he cares about the innocent people and wishes to no longer be seen as Kingslayer and Lancelot because he’s actually fey and “damned”. They try to please the people who are above them but don’t seem to be enough.

Jaime eventually escapes his abusive family (don’t try to tell me they weren’t) much like Lancelot escaped the Paladins and is set on a different path.

3) Reveal of name

This was the moment that clicked for me and I saw clearly how the two characters are similar. When Lancelot reveals his name to Squirrel (”Lancelot. A long time ago my name was Lancelot”) it reminded me of the moment when Jaime told Brienne his name. They are both with people who don’t really like them and in a moment of weakness they reveal something personal to them. When Jaime told Brienne his name after she called him Kingslayer (”Jaime. My name’s Jaime.”, btw Nikolaj Coster-Waldau’s acting in this scene is superb) he wanted to finally escaped the nickname that was given to him and I think this is the moment where Lancelot shows his humanity and perhaps wishes to no longer be seen as The Weeping Monk.

4) Resented by their own people

Yet another similarity is the fact that both characters are resented by their people. Jaime is resented by the people of Westeros because he killed Aerys “The Mad King” Targaryen by driving a sword through his back and gained the nickname Kingslayer and Lancelot is resented and hated by the fey because he associates himself with the Red Paladins and wants to exterminate them and in return he gained the name, The Weeping Monk.

We know that Jaime wants to get rid of his title as Kinglsayer because it doesn’t represent what he stand for and even though we did not see it yet, I do believe that Lancelot will want to escape his given name. I would even say (as stated above) that him revealing his true name is a step towards that path.

Now that I have presented you with a few similarities between the two I can tell you that I think Lancelot’s arc will be similar to Jaime’s. He will go to serve a good queen who cares about her people (Jaime went to Sansa and Lancelot is going to Nimue) and atone for his mistakes (Jaime utlimately fought for the living and Lancelot will fight for the fey) and ultimately become an honorable man.

Him going to find Nimue resembles Jaime’s wish to go North, find and protect Sansa. Nimue also resembles Sansa to me because she is a queen chosen by her people, didn’t fit very well at the beggining, is concerned with the well-being of her people (the scene where Nimue discuses food and how to feed the fey reminded me of when Sansa talked to the lords about securing food for the North), so it would make sense for Lancelot to serve her and pledge to her cause.

I think it would make a lot more sense for his character to be a Knight for Nimue and a protector rather than a love interest. A good redemption arc takes time and developement and I don’t think a romance is necessary, especially not with Nimue. To me, it doesn’t make sense. I am also a bit tired of the “enemies turned lovers” trope and it bugs me the wrong way that people completely disregard Arthur and his importance in the plot (and how convenient that the fandom ignores the black love interest, hmm). So many people jumped onto this ship and I can’t for the life of me understand why.

I don’t deny the connections and similarities between Nimue and Lancelot but that doesn’t mean that they have to be romantically involved and “endgame”. I also think they may be siblings, mainly because of what Merlin said at one point about “his kin” to Nimue. I can’t remember from the top of my head what he said exactly, but he didn’t refer to her as “my daughter” or even “my child”, but “my kin” and it made me think that it implies that Nimue is not his only child.

This was such a long post, but I had to make it because it has been on my mind for a couple of days. Let me know what you think about Lancelot’s arc and what are your theories because I am curious about what other people think.

#cursed netflix #cursed spoilers #the weeping monk #lancelot #jaime lannister #anti nimulot #i am tagging it as anti just to be sure #i am still pissed that d&d fucked jaime's arc in the last season #also another similarity is #by what right does the wolf judge the lion? and do you love me father? even if i am damned?#but maybe it's just me #and daniel sharman's actin is chef's kiss #NETFLIX PLEASE RENEW CURSED #I NEED MORE OKAY?#capsiclesteebrogers

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silvergalaxyx7 · 3 years

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Friday Night Funkin Original Story (Corrupta Nigrum) [Part 2: Crimson Metal]

Part 2: Crimson Metal

Another beautiful day shined upon the Holy Granda Church as Sarv sat within the greenhouse towards the back of the building, holding a plate of handmade cookies, some having strawberry frosting with a crudely made heart with a cross in the middle while others had gray frosting with an attempt to draw her friend Ruv, the nun trying to bring one of the pink cookies to the man’s mouth, only for Ruv to turn his head.

“Ruuuuv, just try them!” Sarv tried to bring the cookie closer to her friend’s face, only for Ruv to simply grunt in response.

“Sarv, you know how much I hate those kinds of foods,” the man stood up.

“Aww, but you haven’t even tried to eat one yet!” Sarv whined as Ruv stood up from his chair, Sarv following, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere where I don’t have to be forced to eat disgusting sweets!” Ruv began walking away before Sarv held her cookie tighter going after the man.

“Oh no you don’t!” Sarv tried to shove one of the cookies into Ruv’s mouth, only for the man to slap it away, “H-Hey, I spent all last night making these! Pick it up right now, young man!”

“S-Sorry, but you asked for it!” Ruv explained, going down to get the cookie before realizing what was going on, looking up to see Sarv poised and ready to shove another cookie in his mouth, this one being the one representing his face, “Oh you little-”

“Come here!” Sarv exclaimed, running after the man who dodged every instance of her trying to shove the frosted dessert in his mouth.

“No, never!” Ruv widened his eyes a small bit, his eyebrows following the same pattern, a clear indication that he was either surprised or trying to smile despite not being able to do so.

“Say ahhh!” Sarv instructed, running after the man with her mouth open.

“AHHH!” Ruv screamed as the greenhouse shook with the man’s voice, the window panes that surrounded them beginning to crack as Sarv fell onto the ground, her plate breaking from the impact, a large array of her cookies littering the ground, as Sarv looked up, dizzy from the impact, but more so saddened by the remnant of all her work.

“Nooo, my cookies!” Sarv pretended to cry dramatically, Ruv rolling his eyes as he stood tall above her, “Ruv you brute, how could you?”

“Ugh, fine!” Ruv scoffed, grabbing one of the only whole cookies from the ground, this being the gray one with his face, before shoving it into his mouth before momentarily wincing at the strong flavor and swallowing it with a bit too much effort for eating such a simple food.

Sarv gasped with joy before picking up the rest of the broken cookies and bringing them to another plate she had left on one of the counters that held her tending tools for the greenhouse’s plants, waiting for her friend’s rather overdramatic attempt at trying to digest her gift to him.

“Sooo, how is it?” she gathered her broom and dustpan, sweeping the pieces of the plate into it turning to Ruv with an expectant smile.

“Sweet…..too sweet,” Ruv commented before coughing, a piece of the plate coming out of his mouth, “Oh, and this tastes horrible too by the way.”

“Ruv!” Sarv picked up the piece before placing it in the dustpan, emptying it in the trashcan nearby, “I swear, you can be such a child sometimes.”

“At least I’m not trying to force people to eat poison!” Ruv remarked.

“It’s not poison and you know it!” Sarv placed her hands on her hips as Ruv simply gave another grunt.

“It wasn’t…..completely awful,” Ruv responded as Sarv’s eyes sparkled from the compliment, hugging her friend tightly.

“Aw, you mean it?”

“Yeah, it was a lot better than your last ten tries this week,” Ruv shrugged.

“Gee, thanks very much,” Sarv said sarcastically, rolling her eyes before laughing, Ruv only capable of one or two chuckles as the duo stood underneath the sunlight beaming through the windows of their collection of fauna.

Suddenly however, a small sobbing began coming from the door that stopped both friends from their little happy moment, Sarv slowly pulling away from her and Ruv’s embrace before walking towards the door that led to the main mass hall where nobody really arrived to nowadays, prayer being of little importance to a world that ran on melody, though Sarv believed otherwise.

“It’s that man again, isn’t it?” Ruv asked, following Sarv who peered through the crack of the door, observing an old man with a disheveled gray beard and long white hair at one of the church’s benches, kneeling down with his hands together in prayer as his eyes were closed, tears escaping from them as he continued to pray.

“Bless those who mourn, eternal God, with the…..*sniff*.....comfort of your love that I may face each new day…*sniff*...with hope and the certainty that nothing can destroy the good that has been given. May my and…*sniff*…..mine loved ones memories become joyful, their days enriched with friendship, and our lives encircled by your love, amen” the old man had said, sobs and sniffs in between his prayer as he let out a shaky breath before continuing to cry, his cane at his side.

Sarv looked on, a pained expression filling her face as she looked on, a pained guilt inside her chest that she couldn’t help everyone who was suffering in the world at the moment, the musical harmony that is shown through the flashy billboards and tv commercials only hiding the suffering that individuals like this man were feeling, and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Heh, “God’s Plan” as they called it.

“Yes….” Sarv finally responded to Ruv’s question as she gave a deep sigh of her melancholy heart.

“What’s his name?” Ruv asked as Sarv looked up at the man who stared at the praying elder, Ruv having never shown any interest in the lives of those outside of herself, though the nun simply smiled sadly with that fact.

“Joseph Gerrack,” Sarv answered before her smile shifted into a frown.

“Lost loved one I’m guessing?” Ruv closed his eyes for a moment, not needing to see Sarv’s slow nod to know he was right.

“His wife, Isabelle Gerrack, recently passed away at eighty just the other day, and Joseph, having been extremely close to her, used every cent he had left in his account to give her the medical and affectionate attention she needed and deserves but…..but it turned out to not be enough I’m afraid,” Sarv’s grip on the door’s side tightening for a moment, tears escaping her eyes for a second before the nun wiped them away, “Ruv, is it selfish of us to live passed all of them when they have to go through so much suffering and death, only to go to someplace better?”

“Are you saying life isn’t worth living if you go to a better place?” Ruv brought his voice lower than they had been speaking, but his words were always louder than necessary, so the nun could hear him clearly.

“Of course not, but I feel like it makes us look like we are living our lives free of worries while everyone has to go through the pain of losing their loved ones in the process of trying to be their best selves,” Sarv looked back at Joseph who had grabbed something from the coat of his jacket, this being a rosary that he gripped in his hand before continuing his prayer.

“Or maybe we lose ourselves,” Ruv’s hardened expression made it hard to make it apparent that he too had a saddened look on his face, “But we are lucky that we are immortal.”

“How so?” Sarv looked up at the man with surprise.

“We have more time to reflect on ourselves, find longer and better ways to help those who need it…...well, at least you do,” Ruv held Sarv’s hand as she simply smiled back with some semblance of understanding in her breaths.

“Ruv, you know I believe you can do it, after everything that you’ve done to try redemption, to try and be a far better person than you have been,” Sarv squeezed the man’s help with a determined look, “You are not your actions. Don’t let your past define who you currently are.”

“Right,” Ruv looked down at the nun’s hands.

“Ruv, if you wouldn’t mind me asking, since you don’t really talk too much about other people around you and all, have you ever seen someone lose a loved one?” Sarv asked as Ruv’s eyes widened for a moment, the man placing both hands in his pockets in contemplation.

“Dozens of times actually,” Ruv sighed, “When I did some horrible things back in Tomsk, I was leaving the country, but before I reached the city walls, I encountered a cemetery with a few of the family members who belonged to those that I…..killed.

I heard them saying a prayer in their language, praying that ‘Благословенный Бог нашей земли обетованной, чтобы наша жизнь была наполнена светом и обетованием, и чтобы единство и слава, которые ждет всех нас в будущем, сбудутся, аминь.’ (Blessed God of our promised land, so that our lives will be filled with light and promise, and that the unity and glory that awaits all of us in the future will come true, amen).

At that moment I just felt like giving up, that nothing was worth continuing if I would only cause pain and suffering to those that I came near, but I stayed around for a little longer, moving into the next town over as I stayed within the alleys of the city, the motel having my posters up too, until a babushka came outside her home and say me, taking me inside her home.

As much as I didn’t trust her, she was nice to me, and when I asked her why she didn’t just call the police, she said something to me.

‘If you hit a dog with a shoe so that he stops eating all of your vareniki, it will live all of its life afraid to eat a single type of food, but if you teach it that there are other foods to eat, things that won’t get him in trouble, then it learns his lesson, and its trust on you as not an owner but a friend grows.’

I didn’t really know what she was talking about, but spending a while with her allowed me to self reflect on who I was as a person and although it only lasted a little bit, it helped me continue going forward with something in my chest, though I don’t know if it was hope or a desperate call for salvation that led me to this city…...to you.”

“Ruv…” Sarv gave a smile, the nun beginning to tear up once more before the man gesture that Joseph was leaving, Sarv quickly realizing this as she exited the greenhouse into the mass hall, “O-Oh, Mr. Gerrack, have a good day and may your soul rest in peace knowing that things will get better!”

“I trust the lord to promise me that, dear,” Joseph smiled and waved goodbye before using his cane to exit the building, dismissing Sarv’s consistent attempts to help walk him home.

“Another day, another empty church,” Sarv sighed, crossing her arms as she began to turn around, Ruv returning back inside the greenhouse.

“Excuse me!” the nun suddenly heard a voice come from the front of the church’s doors which opened slowly, a man peeking his head inside, quickly lowering his voice, “I-I’m not interrupting a mass, am I?”

“O-Oh!” Sarv gasp, this being one of the first times anybody had come to visit the church, “Not at all, please come in!”

“Thank goodness!” the man walked in, being nearly as tall as Sarv was, having short and black curly hair, thin glasses, a cinnamon suit that seemed to somewhat resemble her own, and an overhanging black cloak, “I didn’t wish to be rude since masses are quite sacred events held in these buildings, although it only seems as if one individual was here at the moment, so I take it today isn’t an average day?”

“If only,” Sarv gave a small laugh, “Unfortunately, it seems as if this is a regular occurrence for us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s quite alright!” Sarv waves her hands, dismissing the man’s worries, “We’re quite used to it.”

“I see, well, that’s good news at least,” the man gave a warm smile, looking around the church in admiration for its ancient yet welcoming infrastructure, “So I take it you’re Sarvente?”

“You’ve seen the poster!” Sarv clapped her hands together happily, “I thought most of them were removed from the bulletin board at the center of town, so I had thought no one would arrive, though here you are.”

“Well then, I’m glad I could make your day,” the man grinned, extending his hand out, “Geovanni Gouge, at your service.”

“Sarvente-er-you already know that, don’t you?” Sarv shook the man’s head with a sheepish smile, “Oh, have you come to join the church?”

“Oh, um, hehe,” Geovanni scratched the back of his head, “Actually, I came here to look for you.”

“For me?” Sarv tiled her head, “Well, whatever for?”

“Have you ever heard of Boyfriend and Luc-er-Girlfriend?” Geovanni asked the nun who contemplated the question, her memories fluttering back to a few weeks ago before it snapped into place.

“Oh, the ungrateful children,” Sarv said in an irritating tone, “Yes, unfortunately we’ve had the pleasure of crossing paths, why do you ask?”

“Do you remember having a rap battle with them?” Geovanni continued as Sarv began nodding slowly before stopping.

“Wait, how do you know this?” Sarv questioned, unaware that she and the children had had an audience during that evening.

“Oh, yes, this is always the hardest part to explain,” the man scratched the back of his head with a nervous smile, “Well, to best describe it, I was simply observing the events surrounding Boyfriend and Girlfriend’s “adventures” and “encounters” with those opposing their average life, though the direct orders of Daddy Dearest.”

“Daddy Dearest?” Sarv repeated the name, contemplating it for a moment before a glare formed on her face as she clenched her gloves hands together in anger, “That demon!”

“Yes, well, through my own person peering spell that allows me to view events through the time and space of this reality, only tying it to the movements and overall body of Boyfriend himself, allowed me to follow him and Girlfriend throughout various dimensions and reality,” Geovanni continued to explain.

“Alright, as impressive as your “magical techniques” sound, is there a point to any of this?” Sarv crossed her arms.

“Very straightforward, aren’t you?” Geovanni gave a nervous laugh, “Well, in any case, I…...require your demonic assistance.”

Sarv’s eyes widened for a moment before giving a rather pompous and joyful laugh that echoed the main church chamber, light momentarily shining through the ceramic stained glass from above the main doorway that led outside the building, an image depicting a cross with a halo on top, bringing golden light in that for a moment almost seemed to act like spotlights for both the nun and the man, Sarv covered in a golden yellow as the man was washed over with a peachy white.

“Is that a yes?” the man asked.

“Oh dear, you must have seen a few demons within your home to assume something that ridiculous,” Sarv let out another laugh, this one a bit more playful in nature.

“I’m being serious…” Geovanni responded with confusion.

“Oh, I bet you are!” Sarv giggled, extending her hand out in a warm happiness, “Come now, let this nun show you the joys of belief and clear your mind of these silly accusations.”

“Wait, but I-” Geovanni protested before being thrown a microphone that had pulled out of what seemed to be thin air, as Sarv flipped the switch on hers, a small DVD player towards the back of the church, on a small table near the altar, playing a rather cheerful melody that, with the building’s emptiness, easily echoed along its walls as if a speaker system had been placed there.

It looked like there was no changing this lady’s mind.

And so, the first battle begins.

[This battle is fairly straightforward since it uses the same songs as the first Mid-Fight Masses one, “Parish”, with the same movements for Sarv and Geovanni with the only difference being the background and setting that the two are in which is similar to the original character’s church, only now we are located in the center mass hall, rows of such a building’s benches being seen in the background of both characters, a red carpet being laid down beneath them as a yellow and dim glow lights up said background, two amber spotlights shining down on both characters.]

“Argh, not again!” Sarv scowled for a moment, gripping her microphone with an extreme force, the nun’s eyes momentarily flashing a magenta hue before she simply gave a deep breath, her grip loosening, as she returned her cheerful expression and smile, “Shall we try this again?”

“Lady Sarvente, I really do not have time for this!” Geovanni protested, but the nun wasn’t paying attention.

“And I do not have time for your accusations, so I will ask you again, will you join the church?” Sarv’s left eye twitched suddenly, the nun’s patience beginning to run thin far faster than how it last occurred with the children.

“I cannot do such a thing I’m afraid,” Geovanni looked down, a surprising amount of guilt in the sorcerer’s expression.

Sarv too was surprised by the sudden addition of sadness in the man’s eyes, but he was just as rude as that boy and his beloved, right?

Yes, just another accusation after another, though his reasoning for knowing her secret was rather solid.

No, she couldn’t simply give up like this.

“Then so be it,” Sarv pressed on the lower button on her mic, switching over to her next song.

With both sides a bit frazzled, the second battle commences.

[Same situation as before, only this time the song “Worship” from the mod is the music for this battle, Sarv’s movements still the same, although Geovanni’s movements are different, being from the third round in part 1 of the story, “Dark Resistance”, where he, like Sarv, is worn out from the first battle and a bit more hesitant to truly beat her and cause more trouble in his mission, but the nun wasn’t holding back, so neither could he.]

“OH COME ON!” Sarv’s voice echoed through the sacred chamber’s walls before the nun simply glared at Geovanni, grabbing something from her pocket before taking out a phone, making sure not to break eye contact with the man while she did so, “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I can’t do that anyway, since I’ve come for your assistance,” Geovanni tried to explain before being interrupted by the phone call the nun was in, speaking to a man that the sorcerer was quite familiar with due to all the posters he had seen gathered around the streets.

“Sarv….” a deep russian accented voice echoed through the building without the need to even shout, a man wearing a grayish white jacket to accompany a face that the sorcerer had only ever seen in cookie wrappers at the local supermarket, wearing a black eyepatch with markings over his left eye, large and heavy boots, and a ushanka, “You do realize that we are in the same building, right?”

“O-Oh, right….” the nun gave a nervous laugh, “I suppose it’s a force of habit.”

“Is there a problem here?” the man that Geovanni knew as Ruvyzvat without a clear indication as to his or the nun’s last names had asked the sorcerer.

“No, I am simply trying to recruit Lady Sarvente’s assistance through her impeccable and beneficial use of demonic magic in order to stop a massive threat that is a danger to our reality as we know it!” Geovanni tried to reason with the man, Sarv’s eyes softening for a moment.

“T-Threat….?” she said softly, though only Ruv could hear her.

“How did you know about her secret demonic shifting abilities?” Ruv asked as Sarv was immediately snapped out of her concern, her expression shifting to anger.

“RUV!” she scolded the man who slowly recorrected himself.

“U-Um, I mean, how could you accuse a nun of being a demonic ruler…?” he gave a neutral thumbs up towards Sarv who simply face palmed.

“Yes, that you a lot,” Sarv said bitterly, “Would you just deal with him please?”

“Right…” Ruv gave a quick nod as the nun threw him a microphone, the man flipping it off before looking back at Sarv for a moment, gesturing around the room, “Um, don’t you want to…..you know?”

“Argh, I completely forgot!” Sarv folded her hands together, her patience at needle length, before the nun once again took a deep breath, mumbling a few prayers under her breath, “You know what, I’ll fix it, but still, do try to be careful.”

[Ruv nods as Zavodilla starts playing.]

“As you wish,” Ruv readied his voice, one which everyone at that moment knew could destroy the pillars in this place, the man taking a short breath before-

“ENOUGH!” Geovanni shouted, startling Sarv as Ruv simply stood still, the sorcerer’s pupils depicting magical circles as at the ends of his hand’s fingertips slowly spun two fairly large circles of similar complexity of ancient images, the sorcerer expression tired and pained, “I have come here to simply ask for aid to stop a celestial and primordial deity from consuming our reality as we know it, and I’ve witnessed your abilities, inside and outside your interactions with Boyfriend and Girlfriend, but neither of you seem to really care about my message, do you?”

Sarv’s cautious position and expression once again softened, the nun reaching out towards the sorcerer whose head was dropped down, his own mic dropping with it as feedback pierced the church, neither Ruv or Geovanni seeming to pay any mind as Sarv winced slightly.

“You know what? I think it’s better I leave,” Geovanni took a deep breath before passing his hands through his hair and straightening his tie, a necklace of sorts glinting in the golden light as the sorcerer turned around, walking towards the main doors of the church.

Sarv and Ruv looked at each other for a moment before the nun took a few steps forward, steps which turned to walking, and walking which turned into a light jog that made it easier to reach the man.

“W-Wait!” Sarv called out as Geovanni stopped, just a foot away from the door.

“Hmm?” the sorcerer turned around slowly, irritation still present in his face, though it was apparent that the desperation for hope was also within the depths of his eyes.

“Wait…” Sarv rubbed her arm, stopping a few feet away from the man, “Please, don’t go…….we’re…..I’m sorry for chasing you away from this sacred place.

I do not completely understand your comprehension of what I am, just as much as I myself lack the understanding of what you are, but my mission, compared to whatever may be your own, is of equal importance to me, this being the insurance that all beings in this mortal and peaceful realm of melody are accepting into the heavenly gates of the father above, so in my own regards it is hypocritical and pathetic of me to try and hide away from those who require assistance.

That being said however, I require your understanding of my own situation, one in which I cannot simply reveal my demonic form to a mortal, especially one who I have never met and who has the capabilities to do harm with this secret, so how can I be sure that you are not deceiving me, or worse, a demon yourself?”

Geovanni completely turned around, this newfound respect and understanding being responded to with a slight nod from the sorcerer who recreated the peering spell that he had tried to use on Girlfriend early that evening, the floral symbol floating in front of him before revealing his aura and essence to the nun whose eyes widened.

“I do not know if you understand what this spell is, but sorcerers and magic users who protect the peace of this world have blue souls, a trait known to those who are within the good alignment of this world,” the sorcerer gave a weak smile before dissipating the spell, “I couldn’t physically use the spell on you when I had first seen you or Ruvyzvat, but I’ve seen what you’ve done throughout all these years, and you’re actually one of my favorite portals to view every day, so I come to ask for your assistance since I truly believe that you care for all life and that your abilities, while somewhat chaotic if your mental and emotional state are unbalanced, can be used for good, like the one who denied your entrance into heaven.”

Sarv stood motionless for a moment, contemplating the sorcerer’s request before taking a deep breath and nodding to herself.

“To what extent do you need my assistance?” she asked the sorcerer who widened his eyes as if he did not expect the nun to agree this quickly.

“Do you know of the Corrupta Nigrum?” Geovanni asked as Sarv thought of the name before the nun’s eyes widened as she looked over at Ruv.

“Ruv, be a dear and close the church for now, then meet us in the library,” she instructed as Ruv gave a hesitant nod, the nun turning back to Geovanni, “Follow me.”

With those words, Sarv grabbed the sorcerer’s arm before dragging him to the right of the altar in which a door was placed, walking through it with the nun before finding himself between two doors, one on the left and the other right, before Sarv opened the left door, gesturing that Geovanni follow her down a stairwell as they walked down, luminescent lights hanging overhead as they walked deeper and deeper down into what he postulated was the library Sarv had mentioned, until the nun and he stood in front of an ordain and biblically carved door depicting the true forms of angels such as seraphims, thrones, watchers, and images of crosses.

Sarv turned the knob before opening the door, a warm light hitting the sorcerer’s face as the nun gestured he enter the room, Geovanni doing so before finding himself in a place that reminded him of his study room, only a bit smaller, the factor that made of for such a feature being the thick books that dotted the shelves, dust covering almost every surface, and a single one foot by two foot book that lay flatly opened on a lectern with a chair in front of the piece of furniture.

“Incredible….” Geovanni commented with awe, looking around the room before hearing a loud slam of the door behind him, whirling around to find Ruv closing the door as the man leaned on it, crossing his arms in expectations as Sarv walked up to the large text towards the end of the room, blowing on it as a cloud of dust gave way, making the trio begin to cough.

“Apologies, it is a bit dusty, though that is merely due to the fact that I have not used this title in such a long time,” Sarv coughed a bit more before flipping through the pages, “Though the Corrupta Nigrum is a name I have only heard of through the first mentions of the story of creation itself.”

“So you know about it?” Geovanni walked up to the nun, looking at the book with confusion as it was written in a language unbeknownst to the sorcerer before he snapped his fingers, magical circles appearing in place of his pupils as he stared at the book, focusing on some form of a translation spell, only for nothing to occur, “How strange…”

“It is an eldritch and ancient language that only those closest to God can understand unfortunately,” Sarv placed her gloved finger along one line in the text, “Though demonic entities are capable of understanding it for a reason unknown to myself.”

“You once again amaze me Lady Sarvente,” Geovanni gave a friendly smile as Sarv simply waved away the name.

“Please, Sarvente will do fine enough,” Sarv gave a small laugh, her expression then slowly shifting into seriousness as the nun returned her attention to the text, “In any case, I take it you know of the story itself?”

“It is more so an event, but I believe I have,” Geovanni nodded before clearing his throat, “From what I remember, it goes as follows:

‘ In the beginning of creation, God had made it is own purpose to form the world as we now know it today, a world where his children could interact through the use of melody and music in a way that problems could easily be solved through a friendly match of musical beats that were implanted in every single human being, be it through instrumental or vocal larynxes within every single living organism that exists in the planet as we know today.

Unfortunately, with harmony comes disharmony.

Those that went against the holy order, demons and the Blacyx, creatures that inhabit capabilities that exceed those of the laws of magic and arcanic elements of the world to torture or decieve the reality and world around ourselves, alike, made itr their sole purpose to go against the order set across by God and deceive the world into sin, not through any personal and means of betrayal, but more so an invitable result of the creation of a universe.

Harmony vs. disharmony, order vs. chaos, the world was placed into an unbalance that would threaten to annihilate everything.

Fortunately, God the Allfather had decided to compact the evils of the world into one set entity, an entity that would center around destruction and chaos as humanity knew it, and he called this entity Corrupta Nigrum.

It is said that God had then sealed away the entity within a black void of nothingness, between the cracks of space and time itself, and that the peaceful melody that would consume the world will keep it at bay for all of eternity unless a certain event takes place.

The daughter of two demons, imbued by the power of hatred and melody combined into one paradoxical entity of disharmony and utter chaos, which then was called the Filia Obumbratio, if such an event ever should occur, wouldbirth a gateway from the void of nothingness in which the Corrupta Nigrum is stored and release it into the world which shall consume all of destruction.

Until that day arrives, the melody of the world shall keep it locked away in the chains of music, peace, etc…”

Sarv gave a nod of approval at the sorcerer’s memorization, Ruv simply tilting his head in confusion.

“So basically, it’s a huge monster that wants to eat the world?” Ruv gestured his hands to represent an explosion, “Like boom and we’re dead?”

“An oversimplification, but yes,” Geovanni gave a single nod as Ruv simply grunted, wishing to hear the answer from Sarv rather than this stranger.

“Unfortunately, over time various dimensions began to form within our universe and portals between them and us began ripping the fabric of space and time a bit too thin, allowing the Corrupta Nigrum to peer into our world and spread his influence among a fairly large amount of people throughout the lands of this planet and some other dimensions as told by the rest of the scripture,” Sarv continued with the next few pages, “We have been unfortunate enough to receive a coincidence in which Filia Obumbratio is within our presence, haven’t we?”

“I am afraid so,” Geovanni nodded sadly, “Though with your connection with God, we could very well fix-”

“Pardon me, connection?” Sarv repeated the word, “I presumed you needed my assistance, but to simply speak with the Allfather is something I cannot do, apologies.”

“Ah, I see….” Geovanni took a deep breath before nodding to himself, “Well, luckily I expected this to occur, so I planned ahead of time, though what I require of you will unfortunately place your actions into question with your ability to ever enter heaven again.”

“I see…...well, I really don’t-”

“She won’t do it,” Ruv stepped into the conversation, interrupting Sarv in her words.

“I’m sorry….?” Geovanni narrowed his eyes in irritation.

“You heard me,” Ruv took a step forward as Sarv grabbed his arm to stop the man from continuing.

“Ruv, it’s alright, I just-”

“No, she won’t let all these years of hard work go to waste!” Ruv interjected the nun’s words again, the man’s voice loud enough that a few books fell from their shelves, their thickness causing clouds of dust to float around the room, making Sarv and Geovanni cough as Ruv stood unfazed, “She’s tried so hard to do good in the world, and I won’t let her waste it on some second hand plan.”

“Ruv….” Sarv sighed.

“Ruvyzvat, I have monitored your atrocities throughout the world,” Geovanni now took his step forward, snapping his fingers as a magic circle appeared, a journal of sorts coming from it as pieces of newspapers fell onto the ground, “Moscow, Russia, twelve families killed, five of which contained six family members while the other six had between two and three.

In Vladivostok of the same country, thirty adult males and five women were brutally beaten and the ten survivors, eight being men and two being women, had suffered blunt force trauma toward their cranium.

For some unknown reason, in Bern, Switzerland, seven adult males, two women, a canine strangely enough, and an unnamed authority figure of the country’s Swiss intelligence community of the Federal Intelligence Service were killed through what those of the vicinity of the “accident” amounted to around 300 decibels, their bodies suffering extreme pressure with external bleeding as those near the area nearly suffered noise-induced hearing loss.

Shall I continue?”

Ruv stopped talking, the man’s eyes widening for a moment before he took a step backwards.

“Mr. Gouge….” Sarv warned, the nun’s eyes once again flashing their magenta hue.

“You may try and hurt me to Mister Ruvyzvat,” Geovanni flickered the necklace hanging around his neck, the piece of jewelry connected by a metallic eye at the center which momentarily flashed a golden light, the action causing hundreds of small spinning magical circles to surround the man’s body, almost like a protective shield, “Though I have hold of all your secrets, and I will not hesitate to bring justice to all those you have harmed, deserving or not, before your attempt at redemption is placed underway.”

“That is enough!” Sarv interrupted the argument. Standing between the two, “Mr. Gouge, if you wish for my assistance, you will respect both myself and Ruv, is that clear?”

“.....crystal,” Geovanni tucked his necklace back into his vest’s collar, “So, may I continue?”

“Please,” Sarv affirmed.

“Very well, my plan is to simply have you remain here in your church as a central point of communication between you and I wherein I will give you my number and we shall communicate with one another from across wherever locations I will be located within,” Geovanni twirled his hand around before revealing a small piece of paper that indeed had his number on it, almost like a slight of hand trick one would see at a party, “I have been forming a spell that can theoretically find organisms of an individual’s essence and very soul, forming a connection between yourself and any potential demonic entities.

If you are able to cast correctly, it will allow me to use my peering spell and find those around the world who hold a trace of the Corrupta Nigrum from ancient or recent times and contain them within a pocket dimension of sorts and…….we will unfortunately have to place Girlfriend into its walls as well, though in a comatose state so that she cannot tap into her seeded hatred and release the entity.”

“You are planning on imprisoning a young girl for something she isn't aware is within her body?” Sarv gasped, “That is beyond unholy of you Mr. Gouge!”

“Yes, well, I believe you should be questioning why God hasn’t gotten rid of, or at least tried to prevent, Girlfriend from being born or had at least sealed off this entity so that it couldn’t break the foils of its imprisonment, and now we have to save our reality ourselves,” Geovanni retorted before looking at the duo, “We have to do this…...together.”

“I….I will try and see if I can perfect and find a capability to complete the spell,” Sarv said after a few moments of acquiescence, “Though I beg you to find a less vulgar, less inhumane way of doing this.”

“I will….” the sorcerer nodded sincerely.

“How did you find this “pocket reality” in the first place?” Ruv asked.

“Actually, this pocket dimension is one of our first individuals we have to find, one that I feel also contains the Corrupta Nigrum within her body, though I do not know her location as of yet,” Geovanni explained, “I will return to my home and find any other scrolls that could strengthen this spell for international locations. Can I count on you both to assist me?”

“I assist Sarv, not you…” Ruv commented bitterly as Geovanni handed the journal to the nun who smiled at Ruv’s comment.

“Very well, thank you once again,” the sorcerer gave a fairly diffident smile before walking towards the door and stopping, looking back at the two who had gotten started in reading the book, “Oh, and Sarv?”

“Yes?” the nun looked back at the sorcerer.

“After this is all said and done, I would love to join your church,” Geovanni said with a grin before walking back up the staircase.

Sarv smiled with glee.

A new member to the church.

A new potential friend.

And a new threat.

Mid-Fight Masses is a Friday Night Funkin' Game Mod by Dokki.doodlez and all respective characters associated with it are also owned by said creator.

Friday Night Funkin' is an open-source donationware rhythm game developed by Cameron "ninjamuffin99" Taylor, David "PhantomArcade" Brown, Isaac "kawaisprite" Garcia, and evilsk8r.

- End Of Part 2 -

#friday night funkin #mid fight masses #Corrupta Nigrum #original story

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