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“So why…why haven’t you consumed me?”
“You intrigued me,” it cooed directly into his ear.
No.
“Your fierce will to survive…”
No, that wasn’t right.
“To live.”
No, that was wrong…
Something in him was wrong.
“Stop it!” Simon screamed at last, desperate as he pushed himself back into Eden’s tree — but there was nowhere to go.
It was in his head.
In his body.
…In his mind.
His heart felt like it was going to explode as he held it in pain.
He thinks he’s begging. He has to be. He can feel his lips moving, but his ears are muted to the sound of his babbling. All he is — all that he can hear — is the voice of God in his ear.
“I could make you a god,” it continues, either unaware or uncaring of his distress as he watched, horrified, as tendrils of prismatic light drifted from its swirling iris. Nebulas gutted themselves before him and bled into his world so that they could curl around him.
. . .
Simon wakes after what should have been the end.
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Bookmark Notes:
this is so darling to me actually. oh my gloobness
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Bookmark Notes:
Крайне не типичный сюжет для данного фэндома.
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Bookmark Notes:
“I will be your Polaris,” the voice of a hundred men and women, each desperately vying for his attention, cooed from deep within his mind and body. “And you, Simon, will be my constellation.”
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Bookmark Notes:
Simon is apparently so endearing that the God loves him, Simon names the God Polaris
You finished reading this at 11:46 AM on 03/03/26 (March 3rd, 2026)