#also YES if youre wondering i DID look up mythological beings with wings to create a new holiday for fanfiction bird people

[peachcitt]

falling, flying

a miraculous ladybug fic

for @softkwami for @mlsecretsanta

Tags: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladrien, Adrinette, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MLB Wing Au

Summary: 

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

or

in which marinette and adrien speed toward a foreseeable end on purpose. and also a little bit on accident

read on ao3

enjoy :)

=

Marinette felt, all things considered, that this situation was not her fault. 

Granted, she was the one who threw herself into the fight without coming up with a plan, but how was that supposed to be her fault when this akuma had started making problems exactly seven minutes before her chemistry exam? She’d stayed up nearly all night cram studying (that much, she’ll admit, was her fault), and she’d be damned if she didn’t show up on time to at least get a B minus on it. So she’d barreled into the fight without Chat because she really wanted to get this all over with. She could hardly be blamed for that.

And she certainly couldn’t be blamed for the fact that she was currently speeding toward the hard cement ground right outside a posh business building in the heart of the city at terminal velocity, hands, legs, and wings bound tight.

Sure, there was that comment she’d made to the already very upset akuma about his nose, but, well.

Okay, so maybe this situation was a little bit her fault. 

But, like, that was just the nature of being a superhero.

Sometimes, you ended up speeding toward a very foreseeable end, knowing that it’s going to hurt, but not quite knowing how to avoid it. And that’s just life, too.

Not that she was going to let herself become a smear of sidewalk gum. She had her miraculous to protect, after all, and she also had this Daedalus-damn chemistry test that she was going to get a B minus on - no, screw that - a B plus on. There was also the matter of dying at the tender age of seventeen, but that existential dread didn’t touch her as she watched her pissed-off reflection follow her down, down, down on the polished windows of the building she had been thrown off of.

It’s not like she could rely on Chat to get her out of this one. Who knows when he’d show up.

She twisted around in the air, trying to maneuver her bound arms to her hip, where her yo-yo was. If she could grab it, she could summon her lucky charm, and she could stop her fall with the help of a handy-dandy polka-dotted tube of chapstick, or something.

The tips of her fingers brushed against her yo-yo, and her arms ached. Icarus above, the akuma couldn’t have tied her arms in the front of her body? At least then she wouldn’t have to try and bend her left arm at a weird angle to get around her wings.

This, as it turned out, was becoming a dire situation.

She had about ten floors to go before she would eat cement. Her left arm was cramping, and her fingers could only brush up against the feathers of her bound wings instead of anywhere near the yo-yo. She tried to stretch her wings out, test the binds, and only ended up crying out in frustrated pain.

Well. She could always aim for a clumsy rolling landing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaking breath through her nose, and braced herself for the inevitable impact. The bitter cold air whipped past her cheeks, and she released the breath she was holding.

This was fine.

She’d had more than a few landings that had left her battered and bruised throughout her lifetime, and this was just another one.

Not that she’d ever fallen off of a thirty story building before, but, like, semantics. She would probably be fine.

Unless she died.

Just as the thought occurred to her, her body connected with something hard, a jolt traveling through her bones, and she sucked in a punishing breath, eyes flying open.

But she hadn’t hit cement, like she first thought. She’d hit-

She’d been caught in someone’s arms.

There was a familiar smell - mint and spice - and she relaxed into familiar arms. “Nice of you to fly by, Cha-”

The person holding her looked down, and her words caught in her throat. 

It was Adrien who had caught her. 

Not Chat.

Adrien. Adrien Agreste. Adrien with the beautiful wings he never used to fly, Adrien her classmate, Adrien with the green eyes that sparkled in sunshine and glimmered still on cloudy days, Adrien with the kind smiles, Adrien with the nice hands, Adrien with the nice hands that were currently holding her as they soared up into the air. Adrien freaking Agreste.

“Ah,” she said, and she could feel his hand, gentle, cradling her wings, fingertips light and steady on her feathers.

“I thought you might,” he started, his cheeks coloring, “uh, need a hand.”

“Right,” she said rather weakly. They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then he looked away, looking for a suitable place to land. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes following the strong line of his jaw, up the smooth curve of his cheek, over the sharp bridge of his nose. Her eyes caught on a little crease in between his eyebrows, and she frowned.

Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and she saw they were pinched tightly, as if he was in pain but trying to hide it.

“Are you-” she started, and then stopped, breath catching in her throat. His wings. She was only just now looking at them properly.

“Am I what?” he asked, glancing down at her as they landed gracefully on the next building over from the one she’d been thrown off of. He tucked his wings back in their normal, perfectly straight posture, and his pinched expression relaxed.

But she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. His wings - his golden, regal wings she so admired but had never seen spread - had been littered with spots that had been rubbed raw. Feathers falling, skin red. Raw.

“Your wings,” she said, and she felt his grip tighten on her legs, but he just as quickly relaxed, setting her down with a smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, moving around her so that he could untie her hands and wings. “Not really.”

“It looks like it hurts,” she said, shaking out her wings once they were free and bending down to untie her ankles.

“It doesn’t,” he said, and she looked up at him, at his perfect posture that hid his injuries.

She stood, and his gaze followed her. She reached out a hand, shaking fingers just barely brushing along his smooth outer feathers. Her eyes met his, and he took in an unsteady breath. “Doesn’t it?” she asked, and he shrugged half-heartedly, feathers bristling.

“Not usually.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered, pained, and he blinked. And she remembered.

She wasn’t supposed to know him. Sure, she’d saved him a couple times with the mask on, but she wasn’t supposed to whisper his name like she knew him, like she felt for him.

“S-sorry,” she said, stepping away, and she saw, belatedly, that his hand was reaching for her. Her heart ached. “I- you- we.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “I have to get back to the fight. You should get to safety.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Neither of them moved.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

Chat showed up not long after that, and they made quick work of the akuma. Marinette avoided any more comments about his nose, rolled her eyes along to Chat’s dumb jokes, and tried not to think about Adrien.

During her chemistry exam - which she showed up ten minutes late for - she also tried not to think about Adrien. But he was sitting right in front of her, and every time she looked up to think, his wings were right there. Regal, golden. Raw.

How many people had seen his wings spread up close like that? Adrien never flew anywhere - he never had to. Perks of being the son of a famous fashion mogul who owned fancy cars and private jets. In gym, he always ran laps because of a daily doctor’s note - who knows what it said. He always took the stairs instead of flight paths, and his wings were always tucked neatly away, glimmering underneath the crappy public school fluorescents.

She tore her eyes away from Adrien’s wings, staring hard down at her test. Icarus, she’d be lucky if she scraped by with a C. Today sucked.

---

“I’m going to spend the entirety of winter break curled up in a blanket nest,” Alya groaned, flopping down at their picnic table. Marinette scooted to the side to make room, hardly looking up from her lunch. “These tests are killer. I think our teachers are out for blood this year.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nino scoffed. “I have my literature exam on lock.”

“Yeah?” Alya asked, raising her eyebrows. “And what about pre-cal?” Nino made a face. “That’s what I thought,” Alya replied.

Adrien looked away from his friends, eyes focusing on Marinette. She’d been acting strange ever since chemistry - she’d shown up late, no doubt caught up in the akuma attack just like half of their class, including him - but this quiet from her seemed more heavy than the quiet dejection of a student afraid of midterms. She kept on shooting him looks and then looking away, like there was something on his face that made her want to cry.

“How have your exams gone, Marinette?” he asked, and she jumped, not expecting to be spoken to. Her eyes met his, and she quickly looked away, a smile forcing itself onto her lips.

“Oh, you know. Terrible. But that’s fine, I guess.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think,” he assured. “We’re our own worst critics, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, and she squinted her eyes at him, as if trying to mimic a smile reaching up to her eyes, before looking away again.

Well, he was sure she hated him.

Okay, so maybe he was overreacting.

He was definitely - probably - overreacting.

It was just something about Marinette - something about her that always made him think a little too much. He supposed it was a residual rub from the way they had met a couple years ago what with them starting off on the wrong foot, and, yes, he was aware that if he was a healthy person, then he wouldn’t still be overanalyzing their first interaction every time Marinette’s face fell in his presence, but that was beside the point.

He just.

Well. He wanted to be liked by her. And that was natural, to want to be liked by a friend, to want to be liked by someone as amazing as her.

He didn’t want to see her upset. He wanted to see her smile, as much as he was able. She had a wonderful smile, after all.

Marinette’s strange behavior extended through the rest of the week, and on the Friday before break, Adrien mustered up his courage to ask. She normally flew home, so Adrien raced up the stairs to the roof, only just catching her as she was saying goodbye to Alya. Her eyes caught on him, the same color as the bright, cold winter sky, and her eyebrows twisted in something akin to pain.

Alya followed her gaze to him, and her eyebrows raised. She looked back to Marinette, said something that Adrien couldn’t quite hear, squeezed Marinette’s arm, and then lifted off the roof, rust-colored wings causing a wind to rustle through Marinette’s hair. Marinette looked after her for a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, before turning back to Adrien.

“Hey,” he said as he walked closer, and a small smile twitched at her lips - almost as if on instinct. 

“Hi,” she replied, tilting her head at him. “You’re flying home?”

“Ah, no, not today,” Adrien said, shaking his head and ignoring the itch of the binds hidden beneath his feathers. “I just, well. Uh.”

This was new. He was normally very good at talking.

Marinette watched him, gaze careful. 

“I wanted to ask,” he continued, running a nervous hand through his hair, “if there was anything I’d done. To upset you.”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“Because,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting, “I’ve noticed that you’re more, um, quiet around me than usual, and I” - he remembered his father normally kept his hands clasped behind his back, cold, professional, and he unclasped his hands, stuffing them in his pockets - “I just wanted to know, I suppose. If it was anything I’d done. So that I could apologize.” The air was cold, and a biting breeze nipped at his cheeks and nose. He swallowed. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“I’m not!” Marinette said, hardly before he finished his last sentence, and he blinked. Her cheeks, red with the cold, became a little redder - no doubt from the new gust of wind that brushed past them both. “I’m not upset or angry with you or anything at all like that, not even a little bit! You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re perfect, I promise, I just-” She stopped, biting on her bottom lip, her shoulders travelling up to her ears. She didn’t continue.

“Is there anything I can do?” Adrien asked, and Marinette’s expression travelled somewhere between a smile and a pinched frown. 

“Just…” She trailed off, and she reached over, dainty hand settling on his shoulder. He was sure her fingers flexed, brushing along his feathers. “Have a good break, okay? Spread your wings a little bit for me.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then she let go, lifting off from the roof of the school. Her pretty brown wings, speckled with white, carried her through the cold winter air, and Adrien stared after her silhouette.

Spread his wings.

Somehow, Adrien thought, Marinette always seemed to say just the things that made his chest ache.

---

Marinette spent the first half of her winter break thinking. She also spent that first half of her winter break trying not to think. She made dresses and sweaters and pants from old clothes and bedsheets, trying to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn’t take over. She pricked her fingers more times in those first few days than she had all year.

She looked forward to Morpheusmus by making her friends gifts and dropping them off at their respective houses, determined to keep her spirits high for the holiday. 

It was winter, and Morpheusmus was supposed to be all about cheer and friendship and good dreams. Giving gifts to friends and family to encourage peaceful nights through the long dark hours, while nature slept in its cold. And she was giving her gifts with a damn smile on her face, no matter how much she kept thinking about-

She held Adrien’s wrapped gift - a warm red sweater made from the softest fabric she could find - tightly in her arms as she dropped down to the ground in front of the gates of the Agreste mansion. She dropped the package in the drop box, checking twice to make sure she’d signed her name, and then looked up at the mansion. Towering and cold, colder than the winter air.

She’d done some research, on those nights when she couldn’t avoid thinking.

About wing binding.

It was a common practice in well-off families to encourage good posture and to show off wealth. In excessive amounts, it could cause pain and long-term injury to the person binded. 

She bit at the inside of her cheek.

So, she was doing something stupid.

It’s not like she decided - right then at the gates to the Agreste mansion - that she’d do what she’d decided to do, but staring up at that awful mansion had certainly encouraged her. It wasn’t her place, to intrude on family affairs, but Daedalus be damned, she didn’t give a shit.

She lo-

She cared about Adrien. It was awful to think about him hurting, every day, all the time. She couldn’t have another friend that meant so much to her living a life of pain - not when she knew  that she might be able to do something about it. If she went in and didn’t find any bindings, then she would take her leave and that would be it. But.

But if she did find bindings, then.

Well. It was a stupid plan. A disaster in the making.

But Marinette was quite used to being a step away from disaster. 

She found it quite nice, in fact, to step close so disaster for the sake of someone else. It was a nice change of pace from her own disasters. 

---

On the last night of Morpheusmus, Adrien walked into his room from a late night kitchen raid to see Ladybug standing before his bed, arms crossed. He froze.

The moonlight stumbled through his windows, reaching out for her, just barely managing to catch its fingers on her red wings, on her dark hair. She turned her head to look at him, bright blue eyes reflecting the stars of the night,  and then she looked down at his bed once more.

He realized then that there were things on his bed that hadn’t been there before he’d left for the kitchen.

His bindings.

Each one of them, their unforgiving lines of gold-colored vines, laid out on the bed. But they looked wrong, somehow. He stepped closer, frowning, and he realized, eyes wide, that they’d all been cut apart, each and every one of them.

Ladybug watched his face as he looked over his useless bindings. “Are you wearing one now?” she asked, voice quiet through the night, and Adrien nodded, speechless. He hadn’t gotten the chance to take off the one he’d worn throughout the day. “Come here,” she said softly, beckoning closer, and he followed the sound of her voice as if on instinct.

She turned him around, and he noticed idly that she only came up to his shoulder. But he felt small, smaller than her, and she seemed to know it. But she didn’t do anything with that knowledge, like other people in his life might’ve. She simply moved her hands through the feathers of his wings, gentle fingers finding the clasps of the bindings and undoing them. The bindings fell to the floor, and he turned around, watching her bend down and pick them up.

For a moment, she seemed to consider them for a moment, so little and heavy in her hands, and then she took the pair of scissors she’d left on the bed. And she slowly and methodically cut it apart.

He shivered at the freedom.

“I’ll leave a note for your father, if you’d like,” she said, setting down the remnants of the bindings on the bed and admiring her handiwork. “Say it was me who did this.”

“No,” he said, and she looked over at him, furrowing her eyebrows. He felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she touched a fleeting hand to his cheek. “He wouldn’t know where to find me,” she said, and then she looked back down at the bindings, her smile turning a little satisfied. “And besides, I chose to get in trouble.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she turned her smile to him, soft and sweet.

“Merry Morpheusmus, Adrien,” she said, and she turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and he caught her wrist in her hand, so small and strong. She turned, raising her eyebrows. “Why?” he asked. He didn’t need to elaborate.

For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer. And then she sighed, turning and sitting down on his bed. He sat down next to her, heart racing.

“You know of my partner, Chat Noir?” she asked, and he felt himself smile.

“I might’ve heard a thing or two about him,” he said, and her lips twitched up into a smile before it faded.

“When we first met, he was absolutely terrible at flying,” she said, and Adrien raised his eyebrows. She’d never told him that before. “He was like a toddler,” she said, and Adrien bit back a retort. She didn’t seem to notice. “He was all crash landings and giddy laughter, like he was doing it all for the first time. And his wings…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“His wings?” Adrien prompted, and she let out a small sigh.

“Well, they looked like yours. Damaged. Raw.” She shook her head again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “At first I thought that was just what the miraculous did to him for his disguise, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought that maybe… That maybe outside of the mask, he probably didn’t fly.”

She paused, and Adrien ached.

“I asked him once, if it hurt,” she said softly. “He told me it didn’t. Not then. Not with the magic.”

He remembered. Remembered the way her expression broke.

“Chat gets to fly - during fights, yes - but still. He gets to fly. Without pain.” She turned her eyes to him, and he saw all the weight of the world there in her eyes. “I saw your wings, when you rescued me, and it reminded me of him. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought…” She trailed off, letting out something that might’ve been a laugh. “Sorry, it’s silly.”

“Please,” Adrien said, voice breaking of its own accord, “tell me.”

“I just thought,” she started, eyes finding his again, “that if I couldn’t help him, then I might be able to help you.”

And, like, Adrien was no stranger to the rush of emotion in his chest; of course he wasn’t. But he always chose not to act on it most days because he was always afraid - afraid of losing her. 

He leaned in.

This was a bad idea. 

She leaned in, too.

But sometimes.

Well.

Sometimes it was perfectly understandable to act on a bad idea, wasn’t it? It’s not like he could be blamed for doing so, not when she was in front of him, soft and vulnerable, powerful and beautiful. She’d given him more than he could ever have asked for, and she’d done it simply because she cared. 

This was a bad idea, but that was alright. 

Their lips met.

It was a gentle, fragile thing - their kiss. It was soft and it was hesitant, and Adrien hoped even as he didn’t that she could feel how much she meant to him. His hand reached up, and he cradled her cheek, thumb tracing along the edge of her mask. She let out a small sigh against his mouth, pushing closer.

He felt, almost, like she was trying to tell him something. Something important.

And then she pulled away, blue eyes heavy on him. She stood, and she cupped his face in her hands, something sad and indecipherable travelling across her face. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheeks, and he reached up, holding on to her wrists, loosely. He wanted her to stay. He knew she had to go.

She brushed the hair away from his forehead, and she pressed a kiss there, soft and caring. “Sweet dreams, Adrien,” she whispered against his skin, and he closed his eyes. Her hands left him, and he mourned the loss. “Spread your wings a little bit for me, okay?”

His eyes flew open, but she was already gone, his window open and welcoming in the cold night air. 

He ran to the window, leaning out and letting the wintry air bite at his cheeks as he stared after her silhouette.

“Marinette,” he whispered.

He was probably wrong.

But he didn’t feel wrong.

He felt - awfully, terribly, wonderfully - right.

---

Marinette spent the next few days thinking about mint and spice.

It’s what Chat always smelled like - not that she’d, like, made an active effort to notice. It was just that in the heat of a battle, he’d catch her or she’d catch him or they’d be huddled close and she would smell it. Mint and spice. That was what Chat smelled like.

It was also what Adrien’s room smelled like.

What Adrien himself had smelled like - when he’d caught her, falling mid-air. When he’d kissed her, sweet and gentle.

Against her better judgement, Marinette was having thoughts. And feelings.

A whole lot of feelings.

So when Adrien showed up at the bakery, wearing the soft red sweater she’d given him for Morpheusmus, Marinette had done what any rational person would do.

She sprinted out the back door of the bakery.

Was it the best possible thing she could do in that situation? No, absolutely not. She knew that. And that was fine.

She was speeding toward an end, an end she wasn’t quite sure if she would like, so she squeezed her eyes shut and pretended that she was alright with free-falling just so she wouldn’t have to look down at the fast approaching ground.

“Marinette!”

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at the sky, following the sound of her name. It was Adrien, above her, beautiful frame backlit by the bright winter sky. His wings looked better - still a little raw, but better.

Marinette considered running.

Adrien landed in front of her, graceful and intentional, and his eyes searched her. “Why did you run away?”

“Bug,” Marinette answered immediately, her mouth providing her with a lie. “On the cash register. A bug.”

He tilted his head at her, stepping closer, slowly, carefully, like she was a flighty bird. 

Which.

Yeah.

“You mean it wasn’t because of me?”

So that was super rude of him, to look so honest. 

Marinette let out a strained sound from the back of her throat, throwing her hands up into the air and turning away from him.

“It’s because of the- the Daedalus-damned mint!” she exclaimed, whirling around to face him again. He had a confused sort of smile on his face. “And the- the stupid spice! And your wings, a little bit- no, a lot a bit. It’s all so much- which is. Which is absolutely-” She cut herself off with a frustrated groan, shaking her head and meeting his gaze.

His eyes were so green. His hair so gold, the strands wind-blown and familiar.

“It’s all just so much like him,” she said, her voice breaking into quiet.

Something in his expression cracked open, and he smiled, bright and honest as the sun. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it!” He laughed as he said it, throwing his arms around her and pulling her close.

“Adrien-”

“You said the same thing that night,” he said, pulling away and holding her by the shoulders, grin wild. “‘Spread your wings a little bit for me.’ I didn’t want to hope I was right.”

She felt like she was falling.

She felt like she was flying.

“You know,” she said, and he nodded, excited.

“And you know, too,” he said, “don’t you?” And she realized that she did. She’d known for a while.

“Oh, Icarus save me,” she breathed, and then she grabbed Adrien - Chat Noir, her partner, her best friend - by the collar of the soft red sweater she’d made for him, and she kissed him hard. 

And he kissed her back, just as hard. She could feel his smile, pressed up close to her mouth, and she laughed, breathing in the wonderfully familiar mint and spice.

---

Looking at this rationally, Adrien was absolutely certain this was a bad idea. His father wasn’t going to be happy about him getting a girlfriend, let alone getting a girlfriend that cuts up all the new bindings he buys with a gleam in her eyes that is, quite honestly, downright terrifying. 

However, Adrien didn’t like being rational. He did like this bad idea, though, and all it was speeding toward.

And Marinette felt far from a bad idea, she felt like soft feathers and softer kisses, gentle smiles and quick laughs. She felt like everything absolutely and totally right, and he couldn’t exactly fault himself for falling - flying toward her.

It was only natural. 

That much, at least, he was sure of.

=

hey apple i hope you loved this as much as i loved writing it (can you tell i got carried away a little bit? because i did. i totally did) and i hope anyone else reading this enjoys at least one sentence. it doesn’t really matter which one

happy holidays everyone!! i hope you’re able to spend this winter, no matter what you celebrate, safe and happy and surrouned by things you love

thank you so much for reading<3<3<3

[moonbelt]

𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬 [ᴍ]

↳ classical mythology au | the story of icarus au

⇢ pairing: chanyeol | reader

⇢ genre: angst + smut + fluff

⇢ word count: 14,101 (this one’s a lil beast)

⇢ description: on the day of the summer solstice a piece of the sun crashes down to earth and perhaps it was fate that led him to you. 

⇢ warnings: handjobs, a bit of a size difference kink, small dom/sub undertones, butchering classical mythology to fit the plot. 

It felt like the world was burning at your feet.

That was understandable. It was the morning of the longest day of summer after all. But for the ground to be so hot that the heat speared through the soles of your work boots? That bit was new. You were quite sure your town was hitting an all-new high record for the hottest day of the year.

Even as you cooped yourself in your basement workshop, the sun still seemed to boil you to death. You could only imagine how awful it was outside. But you couldn't afford to stall on your invention. It was either now or never. You were a go big or go home type of person.

Today was the big day. The Summer Solstice. And even though you couldn't be bothered by your town's usual theatrics and a false sense of grandeur, this was the one event you loved. The one event in which you got to showcase your creations and earn a bucketload of exclusive offers from neighboring patrons that came to visit.

The longest day of summer was a huge festival. For one night you got to experience the finest things the world had to offer in your small, somewhat average life. And you loved it. For one day the townspeople put away their reservations towards you and your father and for one day, you allowed yourself to dream of flying away from this tightly-knit prison.

Forcing things into being from scraps and the dregs of society was something that gave you purpose. Something that in a tiny way puts you on the map. Fueled your somewhat childish dream of someday crawling your way out of this labyrinth-Esque settlement.

The first time you snuck into your father's workshop hadn't been by accident. Even though your father had cautioned you away from the basement because he was scared you'd interfere with his process or perhaps worse; injure yourself. But at nine years old there was only so much that could keep your mind from wandering away and the townsfolk weren't exactly forthcoming with letting their heirs and next of kins play with you.

Well, to be honest, most of them didn't welcome you at all. Not that you minded. Not that you cared. They called your father a genius to his face but a madman to his back. But that was fine too. There was a fine line between the two. You thought Little Tommy was quite literally the ugliest baby to be born in the whole wide world and when Little Tommy's mother did something you hated like shoo you away from the front of her bakery, you let her know exactly that.

So yeah, no hard feelings.

But your father's workshop had always felt like the hottest place on earth. If not for that fact that you'd been so utterly bored with schoolwork and the fantasy book you'd been able to sneak out of the library, you doubted you'd even have wanted to step foot in the dark, sweltering ass crack of hell. But if you were anything it was determined.

Some might call you stubborn. Some may even call it foolishness on your part. But you know that it was destiny. A reckoning. Fate. Maybe even a homecoming of sorts. Because in there you found your true passion. Something that tied you ephemerally to this world.

In that workshop, you saw your father create things that no one had ever dared or tried to before. But of course, he did. That was the whole reason they called him a madman by night.

In fact, you were quite certain that the townspeople revered and feared him at the same time. After all, there was still a rumor going 'round that he'd been the one to orchestrate and invent the quintessential labyrinth town you lived in. But that was a different story, one you didn't care to tell. And one you believed — at the time — didn't affect you at all.

You've been wrong about many things. Your father had made it a point to let you know in every way of what you lacked and in what you failed in. But also in what you thrived. And building, no, inventing, came easily to you. Like you'd been born for it. More than destiny, more like preordained. You didn't have a choice, didn't even want one. And you'd been helpless to stop it.

But now the workshop was your life. You lived in it, breathed it and in a sense maybe you worshipped it. It gave you a sense of being after all. The whole town could isolate you, and that they did expertly, but they still hammered down your doorstep for your helpful creations that helped ease the way of life.

You both loved and loathed how much they depended on you but it was what it was. You tried not to let it bother you much anymore.

After numerous hours of grinding at your workstation, and perfecting your latest design, you climbed out of the heated workshop basement and welcomed the fresh breeze of the cool air outside.

You'd been working on a new device that would help speed up the process of washing your daily wear. At the moment the mechanics were quite frankly the best they could ever be, but you were tinkering with it for the utmost perfection for tonight. Hell, you'd already picked out an apt name for it: The Washy-Washer. Okay, yes, it did sound a bit silly, a bit ridiculous, but you weren't going to call it the hand-washer. You cringed solely at the thought.

But you needed a break. Your back was killing you and you were quite literally tired of washing all of your socks. Even if the machine did do most of it.

You took a deep breath and fixed your gaze on the sun. It was calm and quiet in this part of town. The outskirts. But the sun was always loud. At least to you. It always felt as if the sun was trying to burn out your eyes and no matter how much you wanted to look away, you couldn't. It demanded your attention. And you gave it because what else could you do?

It wasn't like the sun was especially pretty, or particularly different than any other sun you'd seen in the last early twenty-something years of your life. But it wasn't like the sun was ugly either, so you didn't mind looking at it. Even if it did hurt your eyes.

And just like every other day, you raised a palm to the sky and imagined yourself grasping the burning sun in your hands. You imagined it would feel like a hot coal on your skin, a little bit reinvigorating but with a whole lot of pain. You wondered if it was a good thing that you thought you'd like that.

And like what had become your new normal, you daydreamed of creating wings like the birds you envied. Wings that could take you anywhere you wanted. Wings that could actually fly. The dream had been plaguing you for weeks like a disease. Visions of you donning on misshapen not-even-close-to-sturdy wings and just soaring. You weren't quite sure where you'd fly to. Maybe you'd just go until you were too tired to move.

"You are going to turn into a field of ash," the charismatic yet sarcastic voice of the town's resident homebody (and the only person that responded to your flyer looking for a housemate) yelled from inside the house.

You guess you were getting predictable these days. Too much staring at the sun and getting almost sunburnt and less of hiding in your workshop.

"The weather's trying to murder me out here," you grumbled as you pushed the creaky front door open and tapped the dirt from the bottom of your boots. "And that's how you treat me?"

Kyungsoo looked up from stirring the pot he had on the stove to shoot you an exasperated look. You had half the mind to tell him of how domestic he looked just to mess with him. "I'm preventing you from dying a sudden and painful death."

"I put a roof over your head."

"Well, I pay rent and I feed you."

It wasn't like you could you beat that. You couldn't cook for the life of you. When your father had been alive he had handled all the cooking for fear of you burning water. And when he'd married, his new wife Nau had taken over the role.

Nau was a nice woman. Although you thought sometimes that she treated you a bit too much like you were her biological daughter and not her extended family. It was fine though because at least she talked to you. Plus she told all her townie friends about the stuff you created. And she made a bomb fish-tail soup.

When your father died, she'd resorted to dropping off a weekly supply of cooked meals at your door. But with Kyungsoo around, the need had for it had practically stopped. And even though you would never tell her, Kyungsoo's cooking was way more phenomenal than hers. But you had manners, albeit a little rusty.

"You can't hold food over my head. That's just wrong." You made your way to the sink and washed the grime off your hands and face. "Plus, I gave you a friend discount when I fixed your calculator last week."

"True. But it is easy to get the friend discount when I’m your only friend," he easily replied as he moved and dumped two servings of what looked like and smelled like his signature fried rice.

You smiled to yourself. If only your dad could see you now. Making friends? Well, a friend. Singular. The town wasn't completely shitty. But Kyungsoo wasn't fond of the place either. You weren't exactly sure what caused him to uproot his life from the middle of the town where he was revered as a young chef-like god. But when he'd taken you up on your offer to be housemates to help reduce living costs six months ago, you can't say you minded.

He was a pretty easy going person and all he ever seemed to do was cook.

"So, are you still not going to have your own stall for the solstice?" You asked after you thanked him for the food and the two of you had retreated to the table set for two.

Kyungsoo shrugged, dropping his utensil to run a hand through his cropped short inky hair. "No cooking for large people ever again. They never appreciate it anyway. I'm going to be a normal person at the festival. You know, I hear the fireworks at the end are amazing."

They were. Your father used to be in charge of the mass production of them for the event. "Yeah. They're like big exploding balls of magic."

He smiled ruefully. "Can't wait."

The two of you finished your food in silence and by the time you were done you were already back to absently dreaming about wings and flying. It was abnormal the way you were fixated on it. Building wings won't be easy, heck if they were even remotely doable someone would've done it already. But it felt like an itch on your skin. Almost like you had to at least try.

Perhaps when the party was over you'd dive headfirst into it and start researching how you would even go about it. It wasn't like you had the arm strength to keep flapping your arms like a crazed person through the damn sky.

If Kyungsoo noticed your lack of speaking, he didn't mention it. And when you'd finished washing the dishes and placing them to dry. You turned to find him sifting through a handful of mail on the table. He'd been getting a ton of letters from former customers that begged him to come back and reopen his restaurant. He promptly discarded them in the bin immediately after.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"You'd just ask me anyway, regardless of my answer."

True. But you like you'd said 'manners.' "You ever think about flying?"

He peered up from the littered papers. "Thinking about inventing some kind of flying death trap?"

"Hah hah hah. Jokes on you when I actually do it." You scoffed at him. Did he think you couldn't do it? You'd show him. You weren't sure how but you would. "You'd beg me to make one for you to fly out of this hellhole too."

"Well, when you put it like that I can't, in good conscience, discourage you from it. Even though I know it's a very bad idea."

"A bad idea? Nay, I say. It's the best I've ever had!"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at your boastful demeanor. "Where would you even fly to?"

You didn't even have to think about it. "The sun."

You'd get up close and personal with the beast that beat down on your skin day in day out. It'd hurt like hell, you knew that. But you didn't care. You weren't planning on kissing the sun or anything. Just somewhere close to it. Maybe it'd cure you off your dreams of having your body floating in a bright, hellish landscape.

Maybe flying close enough to the sun just once would be enough. You'd come back down. It'd be the greatest achievement of your whole life. Your magnum opus. You weren't trying to die but there was a whole world up there that was calling out to you like a siren at sea. And you were going to fly. You swore on it.

Even if it meant you crash-landed from space back to earth.

The Summer Solstice celebrations had already been in full swing for a few hours by the time you and Kyungsoo made it to the heart of the town. The festivals were never all that lavish or even truly a feat of major grandiose but more of a holiday to the small community. The neighboring towns visited annually and it made good to the vineyards when everyone was drunk around the bonfire with golden and russet marigolds braided into their hairs.

Colorful streamers were erected around the sides of the cobblestone roads, the sun was on the precipice of setting with the sky marred in a beautiful match of blue, orange and purple. You watched as little kids you didn’t know and old people you did flocked round in queues at various booths marveling at the creative food options.

You stopped by numerous stalls and stands that piqued your interest. Maybe it was because it was the solstice that made all the snacks taste even more heavenly than normal. Or maybe the bolstering heat had finally fried your head.

You were having fun hauling the Washy-Washer around and having people ask you what the hell it was. You’d packed a bountiful amount of socks for the demonstrations.

And when you walked away with a cold snack in your hand and a customer swearing from here to the moon that they’ll be at the shop tomorrow to pick up an order; a burst of pride swelled in your chest. Big enough for you to join in on the crowd’s summer singing. A while after you’d finished your word-of-mouth promotion, you even sold the very one you’d brought out with you.

Kyungsoo and you watched as hundreds of fellow young adult townsfolk flooded the streets decked out head to toe with the most glitzy, sheer and barely covering cloths available. It was hot and it was a festival, so no one particularly cared.

But you guess you stuck out like a sore thumb in your practical shorts and thin tank. But you weren’t part of the show so it didn’t really matter. Plus the outfits of the solstice attendees were so bizarre that you dressing a tad normal wasn’t cause for alarm. And you guessed Kyungsoo was having fun because he was running his mouth talking about the essence and the umami of a popsicle… He was learned like that.

Pushing through the crowds, you made the most of the festival. It was a bright thing. With paper lanterns floating around and above. People didn’t make an effort to seek you out in conversation but you cracked enough jokes with your friend to forget about that. Later on, Kyungsoo had been rightfully cornered by his old friends and you had given him your permission to go forth and get ultimately wasted. You promised him that you’d get drunk telepathically as well. He’d laughed.

By the time you had made it to the bonfire in the middle of the Town Square, you almost felt as if you were like everyone else. Paying for overpriced solstice marketed booze, your body felt like you were soaring. Free. You got close enough that you felt the flames of the bonfire licking and dancing across your skin and it was almost ironic how homely you felt with it.

And like year after year, the solstice let everyone shed their inhibitions. But just as the night was getting even wilder, you knew it was time for you to head back home. You could tell when you weren’t wanted. And You were pushing it without Kyungsoo by your side. People thought you were a bit mad like your father.

You won’t lie. He had been dedicated to his craft and defied the world at every turn. But he had also been a little insane. Perhaps that was where you got your stubbornness bordering on self-destruction.

You were already busy crocking up ways in which you’d start building your wings on your way back home. It was going to be a long journey to get something even manageable but you’d do it. The closer you got to your house, the less of the bustling town you heard. It was almost as if the bright festival didn’t reach your part of town. Like you were hidden in the ultimate cloak of darkness.

But that was fine. Because one day you’d have wings. One day you’d fly out of here like a bat out of hell.

And just as a droopy smile made its way to your face there came a blinding light followed by a loud and resounding thud. It shook the very core of the earth, all the way up to the enamel of your teeth.

You could swear that the sheer brightness of the light alone burnt your retinas clean off. Before you could even process what was going on, your body felt like it was incinerating from the inside. It was so hot around you that you weren’t just sweating profusely, you were melting. There was no other word for it. You clawed at your arms in a bid to do something, anything, but the mass of slick sweat on it caused your palms to slip and slip.

God, you were going to burn to death. You were screaming before you realized it. It felt like the sun was right next to you. Instead of you flying to it, it had come right down to you. And you were going to go out in a cloud of ashy dust.

But just as quickly as the heat had flamed your skin, it was gone. Leaving only the stinging sensation of your skin and tears cooling on top of your cheekbones. The cool night air caressed your skin like a salve and you whimpered a little.

What in the burning hell was that?

You were afraid. You squeezed your eyes and hugged your body. You hadn’t even realized that you had fallen to your knees. To make matters worse, your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that it overpowered all the weak sobs from falling from your lips.

Gods, you absolutely did not want to open your eyes to whatever was out there. You’d rather run blindly all the way back home.

Maybe you were cursed? Your father had told you that the gods’ anger and wrath were fickle things. Easy to provoke and swift to enact. But what on earth could you have done to deserve it? Ah, maybe if you could just open your eyes a little bit. A tiny fraction. Practically minuscule. You won’t even notice.

But when you finally managed to peel your eyelids open, you were confronted with someone kneeling right in front of you. His frame was so big that it dwarfed you and made you feel even smaller. It was undeniable that this person right in front of you wasn’t from around here. You’d never met him, never even seen him before. You’d know if you had. He had a kind of face people got mesmerized by and subsequently spent years trying to recreate it in all their art or died trying. Dramatic shit like that.

“This was not supposed to happen,” he said, his voice breathless and airy like wind and yet deep and soul bending like rock.

Huh, funny how just as you were finally catching your bearings, the hair on your arms decided to prickle to prim attention like he was inspecting them.

“Yeah?” That’s all you got? A yeah? Gods, someone throw you in a hole. You cleared your throat as you turned your gaze anywhere but his face. “Well, I swear I don’t usually burst out crying on the street like a madwoman.”

“No, no. That would be my fault.” Now that captured your attention with vice-like intensity. “I didn’t anticipate just how much heat I would give off when I reached down. Humans are sensitive. I’m very sorry if I hurt you. It is my first time on land. I’ll do better next time,” he sounded remorseful but your face scrunched up more as his words registered.

Huh. Maybe your hearing was off because what did he mean by literally anything he’d just said… Firstly, him? Hurt you? Sure he was as big as your bed frame back home and yeah, you’d never met him before. And of course, you were wary of strangers but him? He looked like he could barely hurt the ground he walked on. Squinting your eyes at him, you scrutinized his all-white attire.

Frankly, he looked like a prince. With the way, he held himself up with a dignity that just screamed regality. And even his knee that was on the ground didn’t appear to have a single stain on the white slacks. There was no royal court in your town but from the books you’d read, you imagined he was what they dressed like. With pearly white rings adorning his fingers and a tiny strip of an embellished white gold band wrapped around his tanned forehead that was framed by his blondish almost white hair.

You swiped the back of your index finger above your top lip to remove the sweat that had built up there. “There’s going to be a next time?”

He smiled, a wild thing it was because it felt like the sun was beaming straight out from his teeth. Gods, how white were those things? Did he bleach them?

“It depends. If I don’t do anything stupid while I’m here I’m sure Father would allow me to come back. He allows my siblings to fly down all the time.” He sounded almost petulant at the fact and then like he was talking to himself, his voice quieted but perhaps he’d never practiced whispering before because his voice was still way above hearing range. “But I’m sure even they have never almost charred a human down to nothing.”

“You felt that too, didn’t you?” You barely understood what was going on as is, but he was right in front of you. Like he’d been born out of the heat.

His eyes fluttered from the top of your head to your shaking hands to your knees now scuffed from the ground. “Felt what?”

“Oh, you know the blazing inferno that just swept through here.”

“Ha, I do not know of what you speak of.”

“I’m a lot of things… dumb isn’t one of them.” You forced yourself to ignore the stinging in your knees as you rose to your full height. He did the same. “Now, I don’t know what you are and I don’t really care but, did one of the gods send you? I hear Zeus can be a bit of a bitch.”

You were right about one thing, this man towered over you for sure. You always thought you were kind of tall, but he would need to lift you by your armpits to even be on the same eye level. You didn’t know how to feel about that but you weren’t scared.

“No one sends me except Father. Sometimes it is necessary. Like now,” he said not even remotely disturbed by your accusations. “I do not speak ill of Zeus but he can be, how you say bitch but respectfully?”

You gawked at him with half the mind to laugh. Actually, you were pretty sure a few giggles escaped your lips. You? Giggling? This night was only getting trickier and weirder. You blamed the booze. It was the only reasonable culprit in all this. Surely, this man did not just ask you for a more polite version of such a nasty word.

“You’re a funny one.” You tried and failed to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Or perhaps humans are just easily entertained,” he replied but he was smiling as well. He angled his head and peered around the dark road, almost like he was expecting to see something extraordinary burst out. “I thought tonight is the first day of estival? That is why I chose today to come down.”

“Oh, you mean the solstice festival?” You followed his gaze around the steep and vanishing road behind you. “If you still want to catch the end of it, you’d have to walk a long way deeper.”

There wasn’t much to look at down these parts of town. A scrap metal yard was located a few miles to your right behind another valley. But there was a good number of brick houses milling about. Not everyone could afford to live in the affluent and bustling heart of the town and not everyone even wanted to. Your house was about ten more minutes away but you couldn’t see it from here.

You wondered what this very strange man thought of when he looked around the land especially when the lanterns that outlined the street were few in between and flickering like their lives were one breath away from being completely snuffed out.

He turned his gaze back to you and you felt as his eyes commanded your body to attention. For some reason, he seemed a bit sad. “I see.”

“Well, if you run you could probably still make it. If that’s the reason you came into town then you shouldn’t miss it. The fireworks go on for most of the night. You can see them from here but it’s always better up close.”

“You will not go?” He asked, his head cocking to the side.

You grinned. “Nope. I’ve got to sleep the alcohol out. Tomorrow I start on my magnum opus.”

You weren’t sure if he quite understood what you meant but he nodded his head all the same. And it was then you really realized that even though the night was dark and the lanterns were dim, he seemed to glow. His skin alone appeared to shimmer and bleed light. And although it wasn’t bright enough to burn, it felt to you like he was blazing.

He didn’t say anything in response and when you started to feel the trickle of awkwardness slip down your spine you swiveled your eyes to the side. “I’ll just get going now.”

Quickly, you pivoted on your heel and began the stroll to your house. It wasn’t like you needed to know this mystery man. And you could chock the burning episode your body experienced earlier to the alcohol messing up with your system. Yeah, that was it. Of course, it was! If after a night of fitful rest it came again, then and only then would you make a big deal out of it.

You hummed to yourself on your way back and for some inane reason, you had a bit more pep in your step. Like your talk with the mystery man invigorated you or something. But that couldn’t be true, you’d only just met him and you didn��t even know his name.

Hah, you felt like you could start on your wings project right this second. A clear mind and non-intoxicated emotions be damned. You’d already started preliminary sketches of how you wanted it to look like. Soon, you were going to head out to the scrap yard and sift for materials. Hopefully, you found things good enough.

You were in a good mood. One of the bests since your father died last spring. Your father had been your only companion for a long time. And he’d been your everything. Your role model, your shining light. The one that believed in you more than you believed in yourself. And although you’d admit, he had fueled your stubbornness to the point of annoyance, but he’d been your best friend.

And today, almost a year and a half later it felt like you were finally releasing a breath you’d held in for so long.

But you must have been crazy out of tune with the outside world because you did not realize that there was a second silhouette following closely behind you. It wasn’t until you’d fished your copy of the house keys from your pockets and had already begun the act of shoving them into the keyhole that the presence behind dawned on you.

You flipped around, ready to claw the person’s eyes out with your bare hands if it got down to that only to meet the same brown eyes you’d just left down at the crossroads.

It appeared that this man was getting more tangled with you than you’d anticipated.

“Did you get lost or something?” You sighed as you relaxed your stance a tad. The sleepy part of drinking was quickly catching up to you. “This is really far from the festivities.”

He blinked at you. Once. Twice. And then scanned your old mismatched, creaky door that you’d sworn you’d get changed after your father had died but procrastination got even the best of you. He didn’t seem repulsed by it but you thought it contrasted too deeply against his pristine white clothes. Was it possible for the wood to scuff his fitted embroidered mantle? He stuck out so much in front of your house but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“The first person we meet on land is our fatum. I stay with you till I find what I was sent for.” He said in lieu of an explanation. He poked a finger into the sliver of space between his neck and his collared shirt and pulled the garment nervously. “At least that’s what Father and the rest of my brothers said.”

Fatum? You weren’t quite sure what that word meant. But you remembered that he’d spoken about this mission he’d been sent here for. You wondered if he was like you in a way. Perhaps he only had his father and his siblings. Maybe this was his first time leaving his village?

Sure, his sentences were a bit weird and it sounded like you and him were on way two different pages. Because what did any of that have to do with you? You had yet to leave the town. That was probably why you were obsessed with the notion of flying over. But he didn’t look poor or desolate. If anything, he looked like a king surveying over his subjects.

“I still don’t get what you mean by any of that but okay, let’s say I believe you. What were you sent for?”

He cocked his head to the side innocently. “I do not know.”

Gods, you were getting a headache. You suddenly wished you hadn’t partaken in some of the indulgences of the night. Alcohol was definitely not helping your situation right now. You weren’t drunk per se but you could already feel a truck of nausea knocking on your door.

“Then how would you know when you’ve found what you were sent over here for?” Never mind the fact that you couldn’t babysit this man you’d never met. You were going to be super busy fulfilling orders and building wings. “Plus normal people don’t just let random strangers follow them around. I don’t even know your name! Some might even call this stalking.”

“I have many names,” he slid his index finger away from bruising the collar of his shirt, ignoring your first question. “But you may call me Chanyeol. And I will not stalk you for I do not really know what that is.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Truly.”

“Okay then, Chanyeol. How long are you in town for? And just so you know, I still don’t buy whatever it is your selling.”

“I will be here ’til the end of summer.” Looking you up and down like he suddenly questioned your sanity, he added. “I am not selling anything.”

Odd. This man was very odd. But you had no idea why his oddness was causing the corners of your lips to tilt upwards. Maybe it was because of how serious yet endearing he looked. Or maybe the heat did fry your brain and all your sense of self-preservation and reasoning.

“Is this about the house-sharing offer I put up in the community board?” You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms across your chest. “That was months ago and I already found someone. I’m sure if you ask someone else they’ll let you room and board with them if you’re willing to pay rent.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

You swore on your left boot that you saw a ghost of a smirk dance across his lips. “Would you let me stay with you if I pay rent?”

Hah. You couldn’t tell if the booze was making everything funnier or what. But he really was funny, this Chanyeol. And dazzling. You would’ve thought he was a living, breathing star.

“Maybe.”

And like you were in a trance, you watched as he reached up to his forehead and carefully unclasped the white jeweled crown-like headband. He held it out to you like you’d even know it’s worth. You stretched out a palm and he dropped it gently. The lingering heat from his body slithered up the skin of your arm.

Chanyeol beamed at you as if he’d just solved all the problems. “Would that be enough?”

To be honest, you weren’t sure. It wasn’t like you carried a human gem to a currency calculator in your head. But when you looked at the band closely, you could tell that the gems were at least real. And the gold wasn’t fake either. Maybe you’d take it downtown and get it looked at. Maybe.

Wait, you couldn’t possibly be considering his offer, could you? And what were you going to tell Kyungsoo? That you just upped and got a new housemate on a whim? Plus no one in town even knew him. Or at least you didn’t. You could handle yourself in a fight but you wouldn’t be able able to do anything if he killed you in your sleep.

Gah, you were tired.

“May I ask what Fatum goes by?” Chanyeol was still smiling. Almost like that was his default setting. You wondered if he truly was happy about all this.

Fatum this. Fatum that. What the ever-loving hell did Fatum even mean?

“You mean what’s my name?” You turned back to your front door and kicked it open. After you’d told him, you let him enter your home. “My name is not Fatum.”

Chanyeol’s tall and lithe body made the space inside your home feel that much smaller. In fact, he seemed to make everything next to him appear to shrink. But he looked around your old house like it was a thing of beauty. You were beginning to doubt if he saw the things you saw. Your house wasn’t ugly by any means but it had definitely seen better days.

“Okay, [y/n],” he conceded but you could hear the barely thought Fatum at the end.

Shaking your head you pointed at the longest couch you had that was placed right in front of the window. “You sleep there tonight.”

He nodded and you didn’t wait around to see if he settled in nicely or not. You weren’t going to think about this weird night any more than necessary. Instead, you were going to go pass out and tomorrow you would kick him out. It left an awful taste in your mouth to leave him stranded and abandoned outside in a foreign town. But that was the extent of your generosity.

And it was with great effort that you decided to not crawl up the stairs to where your room was situated. It took, even more, to not fall on your face. Gods, you swore you’d never drink again.

Tomorrow you would hand him his, clearly expensive, headband back and ask him to leave your mundane life in peace.

But there was a thought nagging and poking you incessantly in the back of your mind. That there was something about him that was tied to you. And the just the fact that you’d already accepted his price meant something you couldn’t yet fathom. Like you’d sold your soul to an unknown.

That night you dreamt of flying like you always did. Soaring and nimbly twisting through an orange and purple-hued sky. It was beautiful. But then you’d reach a point where no matter how many times you pushed yourself upwards, your body kept falling. The wind pressure feeling like crushing boulders on your neck as you struggled. Over and over again.

That night you dreamt that the wings you hadn’t even built yet had already broke.

You woke up with a scratchy throat and a light strum in your bones.

Last night felt more like a personal hallucination than reality. There was no way you’d allowed this Chanyeol person to stay in your house. Your brain didn’t even let you dive into dissecting the meanings of his words yesterday.

He was so freaking weird, you thought to yourself as you stifled a yawn and sat up on your tiny bed. Your hair was a mess since you’d been so out of it that you’d forgotten to braid it in for the night. So that meant you spent a good half an hour teasing the strands out of its convoluted mess. It was a torrid and teary affair.

By the time you’d washed up and gotten ready for the day it was already close to noon. You doubted Kyungsoo would’ve come hone already which meant you had to go down and scavenge for something to eat before you headed down to the scrap yard.

Today was going to be great.

Whistling to yourself mindlessly, you took the stairs two at a time. But when you jumped the last step and landed at the foot of the staircase you belatedly realized that two voices were coming from the kitchen. But that couldn’t be right.

Feeling like you were an intruder in your own home, you gingerly crept closer to the open door that led to Kyungsoo’s claimed area only to see the man you’d told yourself was a hallucination and your housemate. And to make matters even more bizarre, Kyungsoo didn’t look like he was even a tiny bit disturbed by his prescience. What?

“If you’re going to stand there and pretend like you can’t see us, breakfast for you goes straight to the dogs.” Kyungsoo was the first to pierce through your confusion.

You stepped into the kitchen, eyes wide as you stared at Chanyeol like he was wrong to be here. You pointed a finger at him. “You.”

The piece of bread that he was about to stuff in his mouth hung idly from his fingers. It bothered you how at home he looked at your house. And now that you looked at him from the glow of the midday sun, he didn’t look as princely as he had last night. What with his white garments traded for a very comfortable blueish loose pants and a baggy shirt. You wondered where the hell he got a change of clothes from.

Chanyeol’s spine went ramrod straight in the dining chair. “Me.”

Your left eye twitched. “You can’t stay here.”

“I-”

“Sure he can,” Kyungsoo interrupted from his seat at the table. “He says you took his rent for three months.”

You gawked at Chanyeol and you almost threw yourself across the table when you noticed how smug his smile looked. This couldn’t be happening. You didn’t even have an extra room.

“I can stay on the couch. I don’t mind,” Chanyeol replied.

You must have posed your question out loud. Gods, you were going insane. And since when did Kyungsoo side with random strangers over you?

“He’s not random.” Kyungsoo didn’t look up from his food as he pointed to the plate he’d fixed for you on the counter. “And you can’t kick him out. You were complaining last month about being short on money. Maybe you should use him. No offense, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol nodded and you almost threw your shoe at the side of his head. “No worries, Land Brother.”

Land brother… yeah, maybe you shouldn’t think too much about all this. ‘Cause the more you tried to rationalize it, the more bizarre the whole situation got. If Kyungsoo was okay with him, maybe he truly was harmless? It was true that you were running low on funds. So many things in the house needed repairs and repairs cost a pretty penny. Plus, he was okay with the shitty couch. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?

Muttering to yourself, you grabbed the plate of eggs and toast. You hated eggs but you could never bring yourself to seem ungrateful. So, you dumped your butt into the third chair and begrudgingly had your first meal of the day.

Chanyeol looked eagerly from you and Kyungsoo and when you couldn’t take it anymore you barked out a “What?”

He cleared his throat. “What do we do we do today, [y/n],” he said your name carefully like it was something delicate.

You scrunched your nose at him. “We do nothing. I, on the other hand, will be going scrapping.”

“Scrapping?” He titled his head to the side. He did that a lot. Like you were the confusing one.

“I’m searching for materials I will need to create a set of wings.” You forced the last bit of eggs into your mouth and swallowed without breathing. “You can do whatever you want.”

You finished the rest of your food in record time before thanking Kyungsoo. Chanyeol thanked him as well. You adjusted the buckles of your overalls. Chanyeol retied the laces of his stretchy pants that you still wondered where they’d come from. You stuck your socked feet into your boots that you’d placed next to the front door. Chanyeol gracefully wore his white shoes from last night.

You pretended he wasn’t right next to you but it was impossible with how broad he was. His height alone blocked the sunlight and cast a shadow upon you. But he was smiling so eagerly like a puppy that was being let out for the first time.

Pushing through the front door, you allowed him to catch up with you. Reluctantly at first, you began pointing out your neighbors’ houses and the few things about your side of town that you thought were interesting enough. But every time you peered you at him for his reaction, he looked amazed. And soon enough, you got into your role as a self-appointed tour guide.

“Over there’s the Old Well. I fell into it when I was a kid and it hurt but it wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t afraid of the water or anything. My father got me out pretty quick too.”

A few of the townspeople had stopped to stare at Chanyeol but you were beginning to understand that he didn’t understand his effect on people. Maybe he was used to it, but you weren’t. The feeling of many eyes leering at you made you feel off.

“You only have your father. Like me.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you want to fly?” He halted his steps and although you were the one in the lead, you complied. “This magnum opus of yours. Does it have to do with your father?”

You laughed. “’ Course not. I’m doing this because I want to. Actually, it’s more like a calling. I feel like I can’t rest until I’ve done this.”

“Hmm,” he lifted his palm and laid it on your head. It didn’t feel weird. It felt more comforting and soft than anything. You didn’t breathe. “You and I, we’re more alike than you think.”

“H-how so?” You stammered.

Chanyeol leaned in closer and even though you were already holding your breath, you seized up completely. “Yesterday you asked me how I would know what I was sent for, correct?” He did not wait for an answer. “My mission is like a calling. I feel it and I am helpless to stop it. So, I follow it.”

You understood that. That was the one cryptic thing he’d said in hours that you fully understood. You did not dwell on the implications of that. You were too busy staring at his lips. It looked like clouds and when he smiled, sun rays shine through the gap between them.

He pulled his fingers away from your hair and you almost begged him to put it back. What the hell was wrong with you? You were going mad. Chanyeol clasped his arms behind him and tilted his head to the sky and you watched, mesmerized. Even in regular clothes, doing the most normal of things, he appeared almost godlike.

“You can help,” you found yourself saying. “I need all the help I can get anyway.”

His head snapped to you at a dizzying speed. “I accept.”

Time stood still once you’d made this pact with him. You didn’t hear the birds chirping, you didn’t feel the breeze swaying around the two of you as you stood in the eye of a hurricane. Just his eyes on you. Your eyes on him. Nothing else seemed to matter. And that sense of falling vibrated deep in your bones like a warning.

You did not heed. You did not run or cower. For some reason, you embraced it.

It was unprecedented the way Chanyeol slid into your life like a missing piece you didn't know you were missing.

And it was funny how his presence no longer bothered you because he was everywhere. When you woke up in the mornings and hauled ass downstairs. He was right beside you as you delivered Washy-Washer orders. Most of the time he did all the heavy-lifting of materials you found while scrapping. He truly was everywhere.

The only thing that bothered you was how easy it was with him.

Sometimes you found yourself going throughout the whole day preparing for a singular joke just to simply see your best smile of the day grace his face. He laughed at every and anything, granted. But you felt pride when his loud, deep laughs turned into guffaws that shook through his body. The kind of laughter that made him clap his hands together like a seal.

Chanyeol was thoughtful in a way you’d never experienced before. He was always on your side and you couldn't understand why. Or rather, you’d begun to tell yourself that it didn't matter. Because the more you were around him you realized that you didn't particularly mind.

He didn't mind being in the ass crack of hell, AKA your workshop. And to be honest, you thought that was his favorite place in the entire house. But he was always complaining about having to wear a shirt. And not because it was so hot he wanted to shed his skin. It felt like it was the other way around. Like he fed off the heat.

So, it came as no surprise to you when one month in he walked into your workshop shirtless as the day he was born. You almost smashed your finger with the hammer you held.

“No, get out,” you barely managed to speak. “You have to wear a shirt in here.”

“Says who?” These days he was smugger, bolder, and clearly did not care if you spontaneously erupted in a nosebleed.

You struggled to find apt words as you looked everywhere but his damned face. He was way too beautiful for his own good. And careless about it too. You didn't have the most prolific experiences with the opposite sex. None of them really were all that attractive to you.

But Chanyeol. O gods, Chanyeol. It was like he’d brazenly stepped into the starring role in all your fantasies. His chest resembled the washboard you’d previously used to wash your clothes. And by every will of your body, you wanted to lick it. Ah, you were going insane. He was making you insane.

“No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you.” You threw the hammer down and pretended like the haphazard clump of wood and made feathers was phenomenal work compared to the godlike creature you refused to look at.

You could feel his insolent smirk from a mile away. “Come on. You should do it with me.”

“You want me to get naked?” Gods, you were killing yourself here.

He placed a veiny hand on his waist and chided you. “Well, I meant shirtless but I won’t stop you. You can do whatever you want, I won’t mind.”

Please, you were about to commune with the dead at this rate. 

Your whole body was on fire. This wasn't the first exchange like this between the two of you. It was getting more and more unbearable. You were going to kick him out of the house before you dissolved into a puddle of embarrassment.

Chanyeol moved closer to you and you swore his body heat was making you dizzy. He used the tip of his finger to lift your face and when your gazes connected, he let go. You still felt the sizzling pad of his finger on your chin.

“You know, I’ve learned a lot of things while on land,” his voice slithered up and down your spine like a wandering serpent. “You like when I’m shirtless. That’s why I continue to do it.”

You’d also learned that Chanyeol was straightforward like that. He didn't beat around the bush much and you wholeheartedly believed that he could not feel embarrassment. Or anger. He was his own filtered bubble.

“Your face never lies, [y/n],” he laughed like the tempter he was.

You glared at him. “Are you making fun of me right now?”

“Never.” He replied instantaneously as he tried to suppress his snicker. He utterly failed.

Hah. This was a very fine line he was dancing on. You didn't think. You crossed it.

“Yeah?” Your voice was getting huskier. You unhooked the buckles of your overalls and let the top of it fall like one big petal around your waist. “You mean if I take this off right now, you won't mind?”

You needed him to call you crazy. You’d never been forward with anyone before. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you were coming off as sexy or demented. There was a thin line between the two. But Chanyeol gulped, visibly. His Adam's apple bobbled with the action. And there was that unknown feeling again. You wanted to bite it. Actually, no. You wanted to bite all of him.

You had no idea where this day was leading but you thanked foresight for the fact that you hadn't been welding today. Not that you ever thought about doing anything secondary in your workshop. But you didn't want to accidentally burn your ass when you threw your inhibitions out of the window.

“If you take it off, I would try not to mind,” he sighed out. All of a sudden, his breath was fanning your forehead, like oxygen to a flame. “And I would fail, miserably.”

“You should mind then. You should mind a lot.”

And like that was your sign to go, one of his hands slipped around the back of your neck and cradled it. “You know I’ve been reading.” He applied enough pressure to bring your face closer to him until your lips were a breath away. “I think I like you a lot more than I know what to do with. You… you feel like home.”

“What?” You said into the silence.

“A star. You feel like the star at the center of my universe.”

“Like the sun?”

He did not answer. And even though your temperature was raging like an inferno, when his lips landed on yours it felt like a calm before the storm.

It took a millisecond to register before your body was pushing into him. Hot desire dancing alongside your veins like an essential need. He was breathing fire into your body. And you were burning spectacularly.

He groaned and you swore the sound alone woke up every nerve ending in your body like a spell. You demanded more. No, you needed it. So you took it. And he gave it to you. He accepted you like it was only natural. Your tongue dived in callously. His tongue was pliant, weak against yours. There was nothing reserved about the way you kissed him. All those lingering looks as the two of you worked side by side. That yearning ache that had dug a hole in your stomach. He’d felt it too. He kissed you back like a man that wanted to engrave his very being into your soul.

“I really like you,” he said as the two of you caught your breaths. Your bodies were so close. So close that when he jutted out his hips, his hardened cock flattened against you like an iron rod. “And I need to know if you like me too because I believe I’m going insane without knowing.”

Sucking in a long breath, you bring your lips back to him and kiss him again. Impossibly deeper now. You hooked an arm around his neck and pushed his body even closer. You did not care anymore. You had no say over your body. It was a monster that acted on its own accord. It ground against him like it was trying to weld the two of you together.

You didn't say this often but, fuck.

Maybe you were a fool. You wanted to ask him a load of things. What did he like about you? Wasn’t he scared? Where did he even come from? Wasn't this all moving too fast? What if he regrets meeting you later on? What was going on? But looking into his eyes it felt like there was only one thing you could say.

“I like you too. Gods, I like you.”

A slow grin lit across his face and it quieted your demons even more. You decided then and there you’d go anywhere it took to bring that smile on his face. Always. It did something to your chest that made it impossible for you to not smile at him like he was a star. The star. The baddest of them all: the sun.

“As I said: I’ve been reading,” his voice a low beat in your chest as his fingers gripped your waist and clenched. You needed out of these clothes. Now. “I want you.”

Then he was going to have you. Every single part of you.

It’s embarrassing fast how the two of you rushed back into the main house. Bursting through like a dam at full capacity with his hands roaming all over you as you kissed. You were floating and you were pretty sure your eyes were dilated to all hell. The inside of the house was a fast blur as you clasped his hand and led him up the stairs to your room.

It wasn't the first time he’d ever been inside but your room was small. Made for one. Chanyeol made your room look like a hermit’s hole. But that didn't matter. Because as soon as you kicked the door shut, your clothes were flying off your body in between kisses that struck your body bolts of lightning. And before you knew it, your back was slammed into the mattress.

Goosebumps pierced through your skin as his fingers came in touch with your naked skin. The sexual tension between the two of you was going to suffocate you but. You. Did. Not. Care. You were suddenly very thankful for your father’s ex-wife, Nau, and how she’d embarrassingly taught you about contraceptives. You’d been steadily taking a local one to help with your period pains. Thank fuck for that.

With a knee on the bed, Chanyeol’s fingers trailed a path from your thighs to your hips to rest like a featherlike band at your ribcage. Your heart wanted to jump out and devour him.

You reached up and undid the piece of string holding his loose pants to his waist with one hand. The other hand was too busy wandering around his chest. Fuck, you moaned louder than you thought possible when his forehead fell against yours. Chanyeol was burning up. Like you but exponentially.

His head shifted into the crook of your shoulder as you began to pump him softly and he groaned so deep that it ricocheted off the walls and it felt like the whole room shook. “Gods, I’m going to die.” His words were accentuated by one of his hands tentatively brushing against your breasts and like he couldn't help it, he splayed his whole fists against them and squeezed.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back,” you said darkly. “You’re not allowed to die.”

Chanyeol smirked slyly down at you. “An honor it would be if I died for you though.”

And then he lowered his head and sucked one of nipples and rolled the bud between his teeth. You didn't think. You couldn't. Your back arched off the bed like a bow ready to release and he didn't stop. He teased one of your breasts with his mouth as he worked the other with his nimble fingers and then he switched. You weren’t going to let him die for you for he was killing you already.

You wanted to cry when he released your bruised tip from his lips but that was nothing compared to the hand teasingly made its way to your clit and ghosted around almost as if to check if you were wet. You were dripping. It wouldn't shock you if you found out you soaked the bed.

Slowly, his hands retracted from your body and gripped the headboard of your bed so hard you saw the veins in his arms bulge and you swore you heard the wood splinter at his fingers just as he pushed into you. He thrust so deep into you that your eyes closed on impulse and you had to hold your breath.

Fuck, you were being split. He was big. Longer and girthier than you’d expected. Gods, you were going to die. His thrusts were slow. Painstakingly. You couldn't breathe. You couldn’t think. You were falling apart on his dick.

“Open your eyes, fatum,” he demanded and you complied without hesitation. “Look at me.”

You thought he was going to go slow for a bit longer as you caught your breath in pants but just as you were getting used to his pace; he hooked one hand across your hip and flexed. He pulled out, shattering fragments of your very soul with him before he slammed back into you with rougher, deeper, and more possessive strokes. He did not move any faster but his rhythm choked you. The force of him broke you down and demanded you submit. And you did, gladly. Without question. You needed him to breathe you like air. You wanted his lips around your whole body all at once. You needed him to not stop. You were on the verge of going cross-eyed with how hard he was fucking you.

His kisses were like savage beasts as he pushed into you. You clasped your legs around his waist and dug him deeper. You could hear yourself whimpering but that couldn't be you. Since when did you whimper? 

“Fuck, fuck, Chanyeol.” You sounded like you were praying.

Chanyeol invaded you like an asteroid crashing and yet it felt like you were receiving a gift.

And then his fingers found your core once more and you saw stars dancing in the moonlight as you cried around him. Your whole body trembling from the impact. And like you undid something in him, his whole body tightened as he leaned forward and swallowed your cries with his lips, groaning as he released inside you.

He collapsed on top of you and for a moment you breathed in his intensity. In the silence, there was only the two of you with hearts pounding and mouths panting.

Your stomach caved in when he finally made a move to pull himself out of you. You couldn't even begin to explain the feeling that sparked and ignited in your chest. You’d always believed that sex was just sex. But this was different. Chanyeol pulled you deep into his chest and held you there like you were a piece of his heart.

You didn't realize teardrops had slipped past the corner of your eyes until Chanyeol turned your face to him frantically.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He was so concerned it almost made you want to cry even harder.

“Nothing.” That was the problem.

Maybe you had finally crossed the bridge but somewhere you felt that this, whatever this was with Chanyeol wouldn't last. It felt like you were at the starting and breaking point of everything. You had no idea what you meant and you didn't want to tell him anything.

You wanted to be next to him until you couldn't be anymore. That was all you could do anyway.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You repeated.

“Yeah?” He laughed into your forehead as he leaned into your forehead and kissed it softly.

Yeah.

The three months Chanyeol spent with you felt like three years and then some.

It was almost funny how much time the two of you spent outside in the sun because he absolutely hated being inside. And even though your bed was the tiniest thing, somehow the two of you made it work because he no longer slept on the couch.

But then the end of his stay was rapidly approaching and you weren't exactly sure how to bring up the dilemma that had been poisoning your tongue for weeks. Was he going to just leave you? Did he need to go back home? Couldn't you leave with him? You wanted to leave this hole of a town anyway. Sure you would miss Kyungsoo and Nau but you would send them a carrier pigeon or something. If Chanyeol said the word, you would go anywhere.

However, he wasn't saying anything. In fact, it was as if he’d forgotten that he’d told you that he was only supposed to stay here till the end of summer.

As the two of you tested out your fifth set of redone and recalibrated wings at the large expanse behind your house, you decided to just let it out.

“The last day of summer is soon. Would your father still need you?” Now, why did you sound like a textbook? Gods, this was awkward. Why were you even bringing it up when he didn’t? What were you? A masochist?

Chanyeol stopped helping you fasten the body of the wings to your torso. You couldn't put a finger to the emotions flickering across his face. There were so many of them. For the first time, you saw that he was in turmoil.

“You can tell me anything,” You said, turning your body so you could place a hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He sucked in his lower lip for a moment before he expelled a long breath. And like he usually did, he fixed his eyes up at the sun. But the sun never seemed to hurt him the same way it did you. “I know it’s just…”

“Come on. I’m here in my wings and you still won’t tell me? What if I fly away from you forever?” You meant for it to be a joke. In fact, you’d already pictured the smile that would grace his beautiful face but you were met with restrained anger.

“Don’t say that,” he spat the words out.

Wait, what? Had you said something wrong? What? This was the first time you’d ever seen Chanyeol angry. You never even knew he had the range. But he looked like what you’d said set him off. He looked furious with his eyebrows drawn so close to the center of his face that it resembled one white block. And if you didn't know any better, you’d say it looked like he was angry… at himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You squeezed his shoulder even tighter as if to remind him that you were there.

Chanyeol’s breathing came out hard but it wasn't from physical exertion. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. “You can’t joke about that. I…” words seemed to fail him because his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes tightly. “What if I leave you? You know I’m not from around here. What if I leave to a place I can’t come back from? What if I’m never able to come down here again? What if — ”

He cut himself off abruptly and shrugged off your hand. Something ugly and vile twisted in your belly.

“We can go together?” You proposed even though it felt like your gut was being shredded. “If you can't come back here, I’ll just come with you. I can build stuff anywhere. It doesn't have to be here.”

Sorrow. That was the look that washed over Chanyeol’s face like a dark cloud. You couldn't understand what was going on but you were trying to. Where you not allowed where he was from? Maybe it was like a gendered village? That was okay, you could hide or something… You weren't exactly sure what you would do but you were smart. You’d find something. Anything.

“You can’t come.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because you would die, [y/n],” He didn’t, couldn't, look at you. “If you follow me back. You won’t be able to make it because you would die. You can’t die for me. I will not allow it.” His resolve was strong and cutting but he would not look at you. 

Your words. He was throwing your words back at you but… “Where is your home, Chanyeol?” You asked the one question you should have asked the first day you met him. Gods, you were so stupid!

“You.”

Funny, a simple word was like a knife being stabbed into your heart. Emotions bubbled up to your lips, so many that you thought you were suffocating. Your heart was begging you to just stop. Ignorance was bliss. Whatever Chanyeol was, it was not peace.

“Where is your home?” You weren't screaming but it felt like your throat was parched and scrubbed raw.

And when he finally looked up from the ground, you thought for the last time that he was a prince. No, a King.

He did not speak but he lifted a hand that you had numerous memories of fitting yours into the sky and pointed to the glaring sun. And you did not understand but you immediately knew and you hated it. And at this very moment in time, you hated him. You wanted to push him and pull him closer to you at the same time.

You looked up at the sun and you had half the heart to spit at it.

“Please tell me I did not fall in love with a piece of the sun.” Your bottom lip quivered and you hated that too. “You’re human. You don’t belong to the gods. I know you, Chanyeol. You're not… you can’t be from there.”

You were holding in your tears like they were the end of the world. To you it was. You won't cry. You dared not to. This wasn't happening. Crying made it real. Crying meant your heart was breaking right unto the sandy floor under your feet in your very own backyard. On your turf.

From your gaze at the ground, you saw as Chanyeol’s bare feet scuffled away from you till he was a good seven feet away. What was up with this stupid distance?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” There was no way he was crying but was that a hitch you heard in his voice? You raised your head to check and you almost laughed.

The two of you were way too alike for your own good.

There he was; standing prickly straight as he sucked in his breath so much that his chest brazenly prodded his loose shirt. And you couldn't hate him. Not when he was struggling through the same thing as you. He was the only one that understood and he was doing his best to not fall apart in front of you. And you didn’t even need to see them to know that he was holding back his emotions with an iron fist that was cracking.

“Don't apologize. You didn’t lie to me. You were honest. I just didn't understand. You said some very weird things but that was you. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I thought it didn't.”

“But if I go Father…” he tore his gaze to the side but quickly brought it back to you. “I don’t know what he would do. Gods’ are a bit bitchy, you know?” He smiled half wry, half in irony.

You let out a sound in between a cry and a laugh. “That’s fine. We’ll work it out. We’ll — ”

You never got to complete your sentence. Like a novel that did not have an ending, you watched as, in the bright light of noon, Chanyeol was struck with a bolt of light so bright that you had to close your eyes for a second and throw your hands up blindly. The heat was scorching even from this distance. And when you opened your eyes as fast as you possibly could, you realized that the light was from him.

It was then that you understood everything.

Chanyeol was the sun. Not a part of it. Not a piece. It was his being. His core. His very sense of self.

But why did he look so terrified?

“What’s going on?” You screamed at him as he maniacally clawed at his skin like he was on fire. But the sun could not burn, could it?

“I do not know!” He looked at you and his terror became your own.

Something was wrong. Something was happening and you didn't know how to stop it. You wanted to hug him but when you made a move to him, he screamed raw bloody for you to not take a single step. You were in between a rock and a fiery place.

“You can’t come next to me, [y/n].” He was in pain. You felt in from the curl of your hair to the leather of your boots. “I can't control what’s going on. But I’m okay. I don’t know what’s wrong but I’ll be okay, yeah?”

Chanyeol was combusting. He was burning out right in front of you and he wanted you to stand still? Fuck that. Fuck everything. You loved him. You would do anything. You were going to hold him down to this world even if you had to give up your hands that you loved so much.

However, all of a sudden Chanyeol tilted his head and you swore you saw the moment he communicated with whoever was above because he looked furious for one second, and the very next he shot you a calming smile. Like you mattered. Like he was trying to placate you in all this.

You were running before you couldn't think about it. 

And your hand was reaching out to him with every breath you had and just as your fingers clutched the fabric of his blazing shirt, you felt the warmth he released close around you. It cradled you through your pain. It felt safe. It felt like you were dying. It felt like forever.

Instantly, there was a loud boom, a bang and then the hottest rush of air that blew past you like a caress.

Your palm was burned. His love burned. You were wailing at the world. You hated everything. You loved him so much. Your palm was bleeding. GODS, EVERYTHING HURT. Make it stop, you were begging. Please. I’d do anything Please. The pain was making you scream like a bitch.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to die. You wanted to be reborn. But the world did not give second chances. You were going to pry it out with your scorned hand and strangle your chance out. You were going to beat your destiny with a stick. You vowed it. As you cried out in pain, you promised that you would break every rule. You won't wait. You’ll fly.

Kyungsoo was the one to find you.

Passed out, dehydrated and bruised in more ways than one. But you were a phoenix that was born out of the ashes.

You knew a part of you was gone as Chanyeol was taken from you. Your emotions were all over the place. One minute you were unfeeling and the very next an overwhelming sense of rage inflamed your body. You wanted to burn the very ground you walked on. You rummaged through your room until you found the tiny piece of him you had left. His white gold headband. You made Kyungsoo tie it ‘round your head and you never took it off.

It did not help that your palm took longer than three weeks to heal. It was an ugly scar. But it reminded you of him so, when you slept at night, you gritted through the pain and the memories and held the palm close to your chest. Right over your heart. It was fitting.

And by the time your palm had healed enough, it felt like you’d aged a thousand years. Kyungsoo could not understand what was going on and you refused to talk. If you told him, he would only discourage you. And you would truly lose your mind if someone told you what you could and could not do.

But your friend was right there. He never left. Even when you were mean, he still hoped that one day he won't need to drop food outside of your bedroom door because you would not come downstairs. How where you supposed to sit at that table and not see the ghost of Chanyeol falling over the chair as he laughed like a bear?

Maybe someday you would get better. Today was not that day.

For the first time in ages, you walked into your workshop and inhaled. It was time to work.

You built and rebuilt your wings from scratch. The wooden ones never got off the ground, not even for a second. The metal one almost sawed off your arm completely but you never gave up. You were restless and you couldn’t sleep. When you slept you saw him and your hand burning. You were plagued by it. It hurt, so you did not do it anymore. Sleep only came when you were exhauseted.

The hybrid wings weren’t beautiful. A mismatch of wood and alloy. But when you jumped off the roof of the tiny shed at the back of the house. You flew. Or maybe the right word is floated. You floated for a good thirty seconds before you landed painfully on bloody knees.

“Fuck,” you spat.

Your knees hurt but it took your mind away from the present. You had to come up with something fast, You had to do something before you ran out of gas, before you burned out. 

Perhaps that is why from the dregs of your mind you remembered something your father had done when you were younger.

When you were nine, you stepped into your father’s workshop for the first time. It was hot as if the middle of the earth was right there in the basement. And when you walked in, after banal arguments about safety with your father, he let you watch him as he created the greatest thing known to man.

Your father had been creating wings.

He’d never completed it and you’d been so young that it didn’t matter to you that he never did. But now as you rush back down the steps into your basement, you wonder if maybe this is fate. Maybe fate wasn't something spontaneous but rather a series of unfortunate events that we only hoped ended in less pain.

You pushed open the back door within the basement that led to your father’s workshop. You hadn't set foot in here since he’d died. It smelled like him. You wondered if he was watching you right now. You wondered if he thought you were a bit too stupid.

It took a while to find it beneath the layers of dust and junk but when you found it, you sighed in relief. It wasn't made from metal or wood or even a combination from the two. But wax. The frame of the left-wing was nonexistent while the right-wing looked like it had melted. None of that registered and that was how it became your new project.

“You need to eat,” Kyungsoo said as he brought a plate of sandwiches out to you.

Days had passed since you’d started working on the wings and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. Not happy but somewhere in between. You’d poured blood and sweat into molding the wax into the right frame and meticulously preserving the feathers.

You picked one of the sandwiches and bit into it. These days you hated working inside. “Thank you.”

“You'd tell me if you were doing something risky, right?” Kyungsoo eyed the wax suspiciously.

Shrugging, you stuffed the rest of the bread in your mouth. You couldn't give him the answer he wanted so you pretended not to hear. You knew he was angry and you knew it wasn't fair. But you were angrier. Kyungsoo didn't understand. You were going to fly. You had to. You fucking had to get up there.

It took longer than you wanted but when you were done, your wings were perfect.

They looked perfect and you just knew that it wasn't going to let you down. It wasn't going to break. Wax wasn't like wood after all. You were drunk on the feeling of sunshine. It felt like for the first time in months you could breathe. You did not wait for another day.

It was already the middle of Fall. The sun was out but it wouldn't be there for much longer. Sunset was fast approaching.

You climbed up the roof of the shed with the new set of wings attached tightly to your back. You wondered if Chanyeol was looking down at you right now. You wondered if he could see. You hoped he did. You stood on the ledge of the roof and let the wind build and rest before you took a breath.

You prayed and then you jumped.

And like in your dreams, you flew. And it was glorious. It was like the wings were your very arms. Your body — your invention — defied physics, defied the very aspects of anatomy. But you were flying through cloud nine at breakneck speed. You were gliding and nimbly twisting through a bright orange sky. It was so beautiful. You had tears in your eyes.

The wind whipped your face painfully as you pushed your wings up and up and then some more. You couldn't hear anything and to be quite honest, you could not see anything either.

You followed the blinding light in front of you like an addict. You wondered if the townsfolk down below could see you. You didn't care.

You kept flying, even when you got tired. Even when your arms begged you to stop because any more and they would break, you pushed. You pushed yourself until you entered a wave of encompassing heat that instantly reminded of you that day. You were so close. Your heart felt like a match in your chest and as the temperature rose, it struck and lit.

In your drunkenness, you swore you saw Chanyeol. He was right there and you were going to reach him. Tears were falling out of your eyes without pause. You’d been reborn not as a phoenix but as a river.

And just as your body felt the pressures of being burnt alive you suddenly felt nothing. Like you were nothing but a speck in the universe. You were nothing and everything at the same time. You were not sure how long you spent in the state but the next thing you knew, you were falling.

No, plummeting. You were being thrown back to earth in a ball of fire.

You were screaming. Your wings were on fire and… the wax was melting. You’d come so close and you still couldn't make it. Your dream was sifting through your empty hands. You couldn't believe it. You were falling so fast that soon enough all you saw around you was crisped air and shattered reality.

Your body was burned. Physically and mentally. Your soul was leaving your body and you knew that you won't survive this. Who could? You were going to die screaming.

It must have been a second before your body engraved itself into the dirt when you felt hot hands cradle your battered body. You were weak and you were tired but he was like a siren. He called and you answered. You fought and he appeared.

It must have been fate that you had been the first one he’d met. He was your bright and warm star.

“You idiot,” he cried as boiling tears landed like rain on your dried, desert-like face. “I was coming to you. I was coming. I was coming. I was coming.” He held you into his chest, injuries and all be damned, as he cried.

If you could smile you would but it hurt just to wheeze. “Because you love me?”

“More than anything. More than anyone.”

And you loved him back. Love was not guaranteed at all, you knew that, but he was the reflection of your soul. He had a part of you wrapped around his heart like a vice. You won't let go. You tied him ephemerally to this world and he connected you to the largest star of them all. You could feel his soul like it was a breathing thing.

“Then I go wherever you go.”

He pulled you away from his body and through your slitted eyes, you saw the most beautiful man. The man who wore the sun like a coat. The man who reminded you of gods and how weak mortals were next to them. You’d flown into the flames and he was here.

“No, I need you to understand.” Chanyeol’s lips were moving in a way that told you he was serious. But it dawned on you then that in his arms, the burns did not hurt. It was like licks on your skin. “You are the greatest star of my universe. You are all of it.”

You understood. “And I would fall again and again. It’s all or nothing with you, Chanyeol. Do you understand?”

Maybe he did because he hooked his face into your shoulder and let out a laugh. It was rusty. He hadn't laughed in ages but it felt right. His soul had fallen down to earth first, and he had come right after. He had been searching for you for a long time, for such a long time that he had forgotten. To him, you were like the vast space beyond the sun.

You’d flown to him, even if it killed you. Nothing else mattered after that.

“You. I came down for you. I was sent to you. I am sorry, so sorry, that it took me so long to reach back down.”

At first, you did not know what the hell he was talking about. Several minutes passed before you did. And that was when you grinned as tears poured from your eyes.

He finally knew.

a/n: ahh if you made it down here, thank you. im so happy you read this and i hope you enjoyed it, and yes i cried while i wrote this. i have been wanting to do this since i listened to Zayn’s 2018 Icarus Falls album. and i hope i actually did my imagination justice. pls dont hesitate to tell me what you think! :)

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2020 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

[so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed]

With the year coming to an end, here is everything I’ve written in 2020. I had quite a productive year, and wrote some fics I’m very proud of. I’ve also met wonderful new people and I’m going to participate in the big bang next year, as well as hopefully join more fests! Thank you to everyone who has helped me create these 12 fics!

March:

🤴 with no way out and a long way down Larry, 31k, T, written for the @hlroyaltyfest​

Prince Harry is ten when he receives his soulmark.

May:

✈️  driving down a one way road (to something better) Zouis, 26k, T, written for the @wallsficfest​

“I’m at the airport.” It’s followed by a bitter laugh. “I’m - I’m literally at the airport, hiding away in the toilets to make a phone call. They’re probably going to barge in here in a minute, thinking I’m doing something illegal, but I didn’t know what else to do Lou.” He sounds desperate, wild, nothing that Louis is used to associating with Zayn. “My flight leaves in an hour, and I wasn’t gonna do this, but, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Louis frowns. “What do you mean, love?”

“Can I - Can I please come and stay with you?” It’s barely more than a whisper, and Louis honestly isn’t sure if he’s heard it right, but the lack of an immediate response on his part makes Zayn’s breath come out all shaky and Louis won’t stand for that.

“Yes,” he decides, repeats it, in a softer but no less certain voice, when he knows Zayn is about to protest. “Yes. Of course. I’ll be there, yeah? I’ll come pick you up. When will you get here? What airport?”

---

When Zayn breaks up with his boyfriend, he needs a place to stay. Louis wouldn't be Louis if he didn't immediately open his doors to him. Never mind the fact that he's been in love with him for two years. That's not important, right?

July:

🏥  my love will never leave you Larry, 10k, T, written for the @wordplayfics​ challenge week 1

In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.

🗝  sadness is a little boy looking out the window Ziam, 6k, T, written for the @wordplayfics​ challenge week 2

Liam is twelve when he receives the key. It’s given to him on his birthday, in a red velvet box, and something about the weight of the box in his palm gives him pause, makes him hold his breath when he unwraps the bow around it.

The bronze key looks innocuous, but Liam knows better. He’s grown up with the stories, as many people have. Has been told about the keys, and that most people except for an unlucky few got one at birth. Some were immediately gifted to them by their parents, others had been kept away from them until such a time that they were deemed responsible enough to understand what it meant.

Because this kind of key, it doesn’t just open any door.

It reveals what you need most, when you need it most, and it can only be used once.

✨  it’s time to find your wings again Larry, 12k, T, written for the @wordplayfics​ challenge week 3

The first reports are dismissed, as tall tales or folklore. As mental illness, poor Bathilda, she’d gone loopy. As people simply getting scared in the dark woods and seeing things, making things up. Magic isn’t real. Mythological creatures aren't real.

But then the first one is caught. A faun, that little Meg from around the corner swears has attacked her in the woods, and everyone comes to the marketplace to see the faun be hanged for its crimes. Louis doesn’t want to go, but at the same time, he finds himself unable to stay away. Not when this proves what he’s wanted to believe all along, that magic is real.

*

Louis is twenty when he starts working at the prison. His fascination for supernatural creatures had turned into something most closely resembling loathing over the years, due to the many stories of their evildoing, and although he still doesn’t believe in hanging them for their crimes, he does believe in keeping the town safe. In making sure that his siblings get to grow up without fear of being kidnapped or hurt. As the oldest son, it feels like his duty to make sure that no creature in the wide area will ever pose a threat to anyone.

🍛  it’s a long shot just to beat these odds Ziam, 14k, T, written for the @wordplayfics​ challenge week 4

Zayn: how many years in prison would I get for murdering a popstar???

He scrapes the plates clean, resists the urge to kick the trash can, his breathing still feeling shallow and high in his chest. He wants a cigarette. And a cuddle from Louis. But a text is the most he can realistically ask for now, and luckily Louis doesn’t leave him hanging.

Louis: ?????

Okay, so it isn’t that helpful, but Zayn knows his anxiety well enough that just distracting his mind is usually enough to keep from having an actual attack. It doesn’t matter that the subject he’s discussing is the one thing his brain is actually panicking about, just trying to formulate words into a text is helping.

Zayn: I served him raw chicken. RAW. And he was kind enough to want to try and eat it too. I could have killed him!!!

That would’ve made headlines for sure. FORMER BOYBANDER GETS POISONED ON FIRST DATE, more on the ten p.m. news.

Louis: well that’s one way of making sure he’s not going to go on any of the other dates. Bit drastic though mate.

August:

💌  if you’re lost just look for me Larry, 9k, T, written for the @wordplayfics​ challenge week 5

Let your dreams set sail.

Louis blinks at the sticky note, sitting casually in between a flyer advertising an upcoming gig for one of the many bands on campus (the heavy metal graphics implying that the music is not to Louis’ taste) and an ad for a yoga club (Louis is going to have to give that one a miss too). It’s small, barely noticeable unless you’re paying attention, just tucked away as though it’s been left there for Louis to find.

He snorts. “Let your dreams set sail. What a fucking joke.”

*

Louis' first year of college is everything he had hoped for it to be.

It’s why it’s so hard to swallow that his second year is everything but.

*

A fic where motivational quotes, no matter how cheesy, might just make everything better after all.

💐  the birth of love like a force of nature Ziam, 22k, T, written for the @ziamfantasyfest​

After moving into a new house, Liam decides to introduce himself to the neighbours. The next thing he knows, he’s tied to a chair and threatened by a small army of fairies.

October:

👻  these days I watch you from afar Larry, 666 words, T, written for the @1dtrickortreatfest​

“Are you talking to me?”

The boy blinks, blue eyes thoughtful as he cocks his head. “Yeah?”

“You can see me?”

🎃  love me like we don’t have tomorrow Ziam, 666 words, T, written for the @1dtrickortreatfest​

"Are you going to see him again?" Louis asks. He’s sitting on a ruined wall, inspecting his long, dark nails. Talons, Zayn thinks. He nods.

“How many years in a row is this?”

Zayn glances at his best mate, doing up the buttons on his coat. “Dunno,” he says, even though he can recall, with perfect clarity, all the times he’s met up with Liam. Every Halloween that he’s spent with him.

"And he still doesn't know?"

☠️  be the end of me Zouis, 666 words, T, written for the @1dtrickortreatfest​

"Who are you?" Louis asks, and Zayn can tell that he already knows. He's tense, poised for a flight from the inevitable.

Zayn still answers. "Death."

December:

🎄  room for your love underneath this tree Larry, 11k, T, written for the @1dchristmasfest​

“IwannameetHarryStyles,” Daisy mumbles, and Louis blinks.

“What?”

“She says she wants to meet Harry Styles.” Phoebe pipes up, and Louis blinks again, absently switches the camera to himself because he knows that his followers will want to catch his baffled expression.

“You-” he starts, and then stops himself, because he did tell her she could ask for anything she wanted, and how can he go back on his word and tell her that he doesn’t actually have the power to make that happen?

Because Harry Styles is -- he’s next level kind of famous. Louis has two million subscribers on his YouTube, but Harry has eighteen times as many followers on his Twitter alone. He’s had three number one hits in the last year, and his last album had charted at the top spot for a record breaking 27 weeks. He’s a singer, actor and philanthropist, and there is no way in hell that Louis can get him to come meet Daisy for Christmas.

So of course he laughs, even if it’s a little bit breathless, and nods at her. “One Harry Styles for Christmas, coming right up.”

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 24

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-23 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Suicide attempt, swearing, drunken stupor. Lyrem needs his own content warnings, seriously.

This includes the FlashBackFever #1 from the Masterlist, but also contains valuable information regarding the plotline. This picks up directly after Chapter 22.

Dedicating this chapter to @myst-in-the-mirror for their wonderful name suggestion for the TimeWorm, Opus! Xx. 

-Alpaca.

----------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN LYREM MET PAIMON

          “Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”

        “My essence was spared as a favor to Kronos, if you recall.” Lyrem sniffed and snarled. “Is this really the type of greeting I get for pet-sitting little Opus all those years ago?”

        “Ha! Did you think I would allow you the privilege of eternal life because you took care of Kronos’ Time-Worm for a few measly hours? Please.” Hades tutted amusedly. “Regardless, you’ve become quite a different man since then. I am not sure I would ever want the essence someone who murdered and then ate the heart of his own father… But at least your memories retain a certain value to me at this time.”

        The mark that Lyrem bore on his chest- the brand that Maria would always say looked like a wine glass carrying a single grape- well… it began to burn. Lyrem grimaced and seethed through his teeth as he felt the brand sear through him like a thousand small razors cutting beneath his chest. It was the same feeling as when he first received it.

        Slowly, the searing pain faded away, and Lyrem was able to straighten himself once again, and he touched his chest. The mark was gone.

        The warm scent of chai drifted over him. Hades was holding a large mug in his hands and he lifted it to his white bearded face. Lyrem studied the hulking God, unsure of his purpose here.

        “Perhaps I should apologize for acting so rashly. When I heard that you were coming to collect, I understandably panicked- you know Maria and I had only just bought the house together and I wasn’t ready to go yet.”-

        Hades smiled lightly as his head shook slowly. He sighed impatiently as Lyrem continued in his nervous frenzy-

        “I mean, now that I think back about it, I’m not sure I should have listened to Paimon when he told me what you wanted. He’s a demon. Does he even consort with your kind? I didn’t mean to be a nuisance for you – truly. I wasn’t fully aware of what I was agreeing to at the time you brought me back from the dead, anyways. That was all Kronos’ insistence. You remember. I was young and naïve, of course”-

        “It’s alright.” Hades hushed him unexpectedly. “Being stuck in one corner of a Labyrinth for thirty years is not really worth avenging in my book. To you humans, it’s akin to being stuck in a line-up for five extra minutes. Would you like a coffee? A tea perhaps? Persephone makes a wonderful chai from scratch, though the plants take a little while to grow first. This place… isn’t exactly kind to her.”

        Lyrem searched around. A small couch appeared behind him, a deep blue colour. Hades motioned for him to sit, and so he did. It would be foolish of him to refuse.

        “A… a coffee would be very much appreciated,” he finally answered. “Where is Persephone?”

        Hades sat across from him in his own chair and he cleared his throat.

        “She can only be seen by living souls. I, on the other hand, can only be witnessed by the dead. But we can still hear each other and create for each other, without any problems.”

        “Oh,” Lyrem nodded. “That must be…”

        Nice? Sad? Actually, Lyrem wouldn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t know how.

        “It’s annoying,” Persephone finished. “We can only ever see each other in our own realm. Our real realm- the one we created ourselves- and who knows what that creature is doing to it!”

        Hades tsked. “Persephone, that is not how you address family- whether they are with us or not.”

        He sipped his tea and allowed Lyrem to watch as his coffee materialized for him in a small ceramic cup. Rigidly, Lyrem sat there, unsure of whether to be comforted by the hospitality or suspicious of it.

        “Sorry it took so long,” Persephone apologized. “I haven’t grown a coffea in ages! I chose arabica for you, I hope that is fine.”

        “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Lyrem said. “I-I’m sorry, God Hades, may I please understand why I am here? You wanted Arthur to bring me here for a reason. Do you want me to release you from this place? Send you back to your proper realm?”

        “Ooh he’s a quick one,” She exclaimed, the sarcasm was not lost with the absence of her face. If she was visible, Lyrem would have seen her sit beside him on the couch. Instead, he only felt the pull of the upholstery dipping next to him.

        “Well, unfortunately, you cannot release us from this place. It’s not under your control.” Hades answered, causing Lyrem to be taken aback.

        “Yes, it is. You may have been able to co-opt it to your liking, but I can certainly…” Lyrem paused with a hand suspended. He pushed his hand around, almost playfully through the air. “Uh… Open… open a door…”

        Nothing happened. He brought his hand back down. It worked the last time he was here, dropping these two away in the hole. Of course, Paimon needed to help him at the time. Regardless, he was told he had control. Of course, why would he ever test it when a God who wanted his essence was trapped here? Paimon knew he wouldn’t try to release Hades. It would be a death sentence.

        “Perhaps, I am less powerful as a dead man,” Lyrem surmised.

        “Oh love, no,” Persephone coddled him in the effort to raise his spirits a little higher. “If anything, you should be more powerful than ever as a dead man. But those hearts you’ve been taking like vitamins? They do you less good than you think… You know, what, Uncle? I think he knew it too. I don’t think he wanted him to be strong.”

        Lyrem turned to her space for clarification. “I’m sorry, who knew what?”

        “My nephew, Pan,” Hades answered.

        “He’s always been a trouble maker,” Hades remarked. “This place is a little caged corner of his Labyrinth. I was not prepared for his increased strength as he transitioned to adulthood. It’s quite a solid construction. I have yet to devise a way out.

        It’s also why I needed you to die. Your soul is linked to me, not to the Underworld. And you are innately knowledgeable of Pan’s motivations. We needed to talk.”

        Lyrem sipped at his coffee, growing more and more confused by the moment.

        “I would honestly be quite impressed by Pan’s work if he wasn’t so notoriously cunning, and quite frankly, annoying about it. But that was always his way, you know.” Hades continued in a nostalgic fashion. “He would do all sorts of silly things- start music contests; him with his little flute, he loved that thing though I can’t remember the last time I saw him play it. He loved those little competitions- especially with family”-

        “Ohh. I remember when he came around Mount Olympus showing off the wood nymphs he caged”- Persephone shuddered. It could be felt more than seen. “He plucked off their wings and forced them to race, that creepy bastard”-

        “Persephone!”

        “I’m sorry. He was just so horrible sometimes.”

        “Who are we speaking about, again?”

        “Pan.” “Pan!”

        “Pan?” Lyrem shook his head, remembering his knowledge on classic Greek mythology. “…Isn’t the Great God Pan, dead?”

        The God and Goddess let out a mighty good chuckle, leaving Lyrem annoyed and confused, and off to the side.

        “Okay,” Persephone caught her breath. “That was a good prank; Convincing the world he was dead… Oh it never gets old. I can’t believe it stuck around this long. I guess it fits that he’s disguised as a spirit from a false religion now.”

        Lyrem stole looks from Hades to the empty space, and then back again in growing disbelief. Hades continued.

        “Pan is one of my nephews. A childlike God. And like all children, he grew bored with the course that his life was taking. In order to amuse himself, he began toying with the lives of innocent humans and facilitated humanity’s suffering on a massive scale. Played people against one another and started wars between great nations. He would place bets on who would win and he would become angry and spiteful when no one would bet against him. He stole children away from their families just to watch their reactions when they found the bodies- he would corrupt the most innocent to hurt at his command – what is more is he tortured people into taking their own lives- and the more he did these things, the easier it all became… I won’t blame his parents,” Hades nodded sympathetically to the ‘empty’ seat, “But he needed intervention a long time ago, desperately.”

        The tone had suddenly shifted to one of melancholy as Hades explained his nephew’s troubling past.

        “Trying to reason with him became more difficult and each time I tried to help him, he would push me away. Finally, being as resourceful and unbelievably stupid as he was, he swept my realm clean, leaving myself and Persephone locked in the equivalent of a closet in the void of the Underworld- that would be what he likes to call the ‘Labyrinth’.” With a shudder, Hades looked away, shamefully. “One powerful human who bears my mark and a few sacrificial hearts were all he needed to help him with that little task.”

        “Me…” Lyrem placed the pieces together slowly, his life flashing before him in a new light, a new context. “Are you saying, what I think you’re saying? Paimon… Paimon is Pan?!”

        Hades nodded.

        “He gave me a reason to fear you, and then he showed me how to trap you...” Lyrem reasoned. “I’ve known him for thirty-two years. How could I have not known this?”

        “Well, first of all, you certainly have a reason to fear me, I am the God of Death and I will still claim your essence one day.” Hades finished his drink, and the mug disappeared. “But I am slow to anger. Zeus would certainly have struck you down by now, and Poseidon has already put you on a list for that ridiculous prank with Perseus you pulled.”

        Hades chuckled softly. “It was quite funny though.”

        With widening eyes, Lyrem sat back, and tried to find what little was left of his honour and dignity with these Gods who spoke of his life like it was a mere sitcom for them to be entertained by.

        “This is ridiculous. Whether or not Paimon is Pan, I am a man who stands by those who are loyal to me,” Lyrem scoffed, “If you wish for me to betray him in any way at all, I shall simply refuse.”

        He sat up and crossed his arms like a petulant child, just begging for a scolding.

        Hades went silent, as well as Persephone.

        “He’s really not terribly bright, is he, Uncle?” Persephone whispered harshly. “It’s beside the point. We need to find Apollo! Let’s open up his mind again.”

        “What? No! Please, don’t”-

                                  ---------------------------------

Beijing, China. 1989.

        “You will never know true love.”

        The Eastern Oracle looked up from the bowl of still water, perched atop the short table from where the three sat on the pillows and watched her client with interest. His dark brows were neatly knit together in a scowl and clearly disappointed. The client did not understand what she had spoken. She could tell.

        She glanced to the translator next and then looked back to the man who began to speak.

        “Oh…” he quietly accepted. “I see.”

        He swallowed. The incense smoke drifted up through the air, condensing their little area in a thin fog. The Oracle said something else in her native Cantonese; her tone rather insistent this time. Urgent, even. Lyrem could tell.

        The translator paused, then spoke: “she says that your fate was never to be loved, only to be respected. It is the only thing that matters to you.”

        Lyrem blinked. Respect was a value of his, yes- but the only thing that mattered to him?

        “But… love, true love…” he started feeling silly even before he uttered the words. “It exists?”

        The translator repeated his words and then the Oracle watched him carefully.

        “For you.” the Oracle spoke in Cantonese. Unfortunately, Lyrem was not well versed in the language at all. “Only for you does true love exist.”

        Lyrem glanced to the translator.

        “She says, ‘Only for very few, does true love exist.”

        He sighed. At least he wasn’t the only one, he thought. He stood up, paid the two in full, and bowed before making his exit.

        Thankfully, there was a local merchant of alcohol nearby. Lyrem stopped there first to buy himself a case of sake before returning to his hotel room. Eight floors up, he was.

        It would be quick and easy to find his way to the ground.

        He cracked open his first and played himself in a game of solitaire on the table by the window. Reflecting there on his last several weeks of hunting for a sacred stone in the Himalayas. It had already been delivered unto Cáishén, a Chinese god of wealth and prosperity several days before now. He wouldn’t get anything in return for his sweat, tears, and blood- only his clients would. At least they paid him well enough. But it had been several days since he returned from the peaks and Lyrem hadn’t bothered to book himself a flight back home to receive his cheque.

        At his second bottle, he ordered dinner up. It didn’t matter what was on the menu, but he was craving something richly flavoured and warm. Pork buns, he thought. They were often his favourite and would do well as a last meal. He had finished his second bottle before it was delivered.

        Yes, they smelled heavenly.

        And then he lost his appetite.

        He opened a third and flicked the bottle cap across the room- damn- he missed the trash bin.

        At some point, he had sat on the bed to read a paper he had picked up from a stall that day. It was mostly in English- except for the ads.

        President Bush signs $166-Billion-dollar corporate bailout, the article read.

        “Didn’t trek across the mountains for nothing then. You’re fucking welcome, everybody,” he muttered rudely to himself.

        He opened his fourth drank it, and then got up to take a long piss. He washed his face and ran a wet hand through his head of soft brown hair. His face still burned with the cold from an altitude he was not accustomed too- it left his cheeks pink and dry.

        The wind had pick up. The mustard yellow curtains flipped around wildly bringing in the stale scent of dust and inner-city smog along with it. Lyrem didn’t remember opening the door to the balcony- at least he hadn’t bothered to, yet.

        But now was a good a time as any… Wasn’t it?

        What was the point of living if not for love?

        He heard the rush of traffic below and the honking of horns, and then he tried to remember what the point of making any sound was, if no one cared for what you had to say. He flipped on the radio that was bolted into the side table. Tuned to a station catering to American music, it crackled through the middle of Hotel California with great effort.

        He stepped over the threshold and looked out across Beijing and their neon lights with his hands tightly gripped to each other behind his back. He sniffed and considered his next move.

        Hands forward, he gripped the railing tight.

                 He bit his lower lip as the lights blurred ahead of him.

                          He became angry with the Oracle, but only for a second.

                                   He lifted a leg and found his own perch.

        The sake had really done a good job of calming his nerves. Lyrem was actually quite surprised that he wasn’t more unstable. Perhaps that was the unique charm of the drink. Or perhaps a bit more adrenaline was pumping through his veins than he cared to realize.

        Lyrem held his breath at the edge of the railing, and then closed his eyes.

                                                     He tipped forward, welcoming the rush.

        He was caught. His eyes opened, and he was suspended in mid-air staring down at the busy street below. Life, he saw, flashing by… but not his own.

        He was lifted back by a pair of strong arms and then the savior let him fall to the floor with a sudden thump!

        “You sad, sorry bastard,” the voice of the saviour said. “You need help.”

        Perhaps a neighbour saw him attempt suicide, came to the rescue. But Lyrem could have sworn he locked his door- and he didn’t hear a soul break in. The guest sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against a cane to support himself on the way down.

        Lyrem grunted against the floor.

        “Go away,” he groaned out.

The guest rolled his eyes.

        “What is wrong with you?” he asked. Part of him may have been genuinely asking, but he didn’t wait for a response. “You have everything you could ever possibly desire in this world! How old are you? Forty? Maybe? You still have a long life ahead of you to do absolutely anything you want!

        Women! They ought to be climbing all over you- unless of course, the men are more your thing- I don’t mean to judge of course, love is love.”

        The guest continued on as Lyrem struggled to his knees.

        “Riches! You’ve got that! Wine, cocaine, parties, travelling the world? My man, you have yourself a slice of heaven on Earth! You’re like a bloody rock star!”

        Lyrem glared up at the black-bearded wonder sitting on his bed, in his room, who opened the fifth bottle of sake that was sitting next to him.

        The guest grimaced at the taste, but kept it balanced on his knee.

        “I guess, what I am really wondering,” he continued. “Is what the hell drives a man like you to the edge like this?”

        Lyrem struggled to stand, and leaned against the chair, slowly and shakily, he climbed into it, and then studied the stranger best he could. His eyes drifted away from him each time he tried to focus. He swallowed carefully. Feeling sick, he might not ever answer the man.

        “L-love. True love,” he managed.

        The stranger balked.

        “True love?!”

        “Fuck off.”

        Teetering on the edge of the bed, the stranger leaned forward.

        “It’s just so funny though, isn’t it? Love… you’d think a man like you could find it anywhere”-

        “I don’t want to find it just anywhere,” Lyrem reasoned, cradling his head into his hands. “I want it to be real. I want it to be true. I want it to be perfect.”

        “No love is real, or true, or perfect. It’s just… Love.”

        “Is that supposed to be encouraging?”

        “It’s supposed to snap you out of this depressive episode. It’s degrading. Just by looking at you, I want to throw myself off this balcony.”

        Lyrem scoffed, managed a smirk and looked up.

        “You’re an asshole.”

        “The name’s Paimon,” the stranger grinned. “And you’re right, I am an asshole- but I’m also exactly what you need.”

        Lyrem shifted his head back. He wasn’t a man with a variety of tastes. He preferred wom-

        “A demon,” he finished.

        “Pffffft.” Lyrem opened his mouth. “You think I need you? A demon?”

        “You’re human, aren’t you?”

        “Obviously.”

        “Then we were always meant to be.” Paimon surmised. “Listen, I know you’re a man of many talents, gained the favours of many gods, and many powerful human souls- I’ve been tracking you for quite some time.”

        Lyrem rolled his eyes up at the ceiling where watermarks dotted around in various sizes.

        “Here’s my proposal- and if you don’t like it, then you are free to fling yourself off the balcony again and this time, I won’t stop you”-

        “I don’t consort with demons. I have a rule about that,” Lyrem said, beginning to sober up at the mention of something more work related.

        “’course, you do,” Paimon winked at him. “But what if I told you that I could find you your true love? What if I could promise you that? What if I told you that all you would need to do is sit beside her on this flight”- He pulled a plane ticket from the inside of his jacket pocket. “-from Beijing to Lisbon, tomorrow afternoon?”

        Lyrem stared suspiciously from the ticket and then back to Paimon’s unearthly aura. He didn’t notice it until now.

        “This is a trick,” Lyrem stated. He then turned it to a question. “What do I do for you in return?”

        Paimon’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head.

        “Nothing at all,” Paimon could see that Lyrem knew he was bullshitting. “Alright. Here’s what I require in return: your… friendship.”

        Lyrem reached out, pulled the ticket from the demon’s hand and stood. Studying it in the light, it was real. It was the very same company he had traveled with to get to China about a month back.

        “If I don’t give you the true love that you desire,” Paimon proposed. “Then I will leave you in peace and never return.”

        “Still sounds like a trick.”

        “Some deals are just too good to pass up,” Paimon chortled. “Trust me, I know.”

        Lyrem took a deep breath. Paimon wanted his friendship in return for giving him true love? He scratched his chin, stubbled and dry. If he refused, the demon might only return one day when he was even more desperate- and Lyrem couldn’t exactly guarantee he would say no then and Paimon would almost certainly raise his expectations for him.

        “You have a deal,” Lyrem settled with nothing to lose. “Friendship it is. Name’s Lyrem.”

        Paimon smiled, knowing that the money he had spent to bribe the translator was well worth it, and clasped the man’s hand tight.

        “Lyrem… You won’t regret this,” he grinned through shining eyes.

        --------------------------------

Labyrinth Cage, present day.

        Lyrem lifted his head off the back of the couch that had supported him this time through a most unpleasant journey down memory lane.

        “… He lied.”

        Many years had passed since he had first travelled to China- and since then he had been hired to return enough times that he had to learn some basic Cantonese for himself.

        The Oracle had told him how to find Maria- not that he would’ve had to try very hard. There was a job, just off the coast of Portugal that he had been asked to do, not long after he had arrived in Lisbon. He thought it to be a simple coincidence at the time and nothing more.  The people who hired him to get it done probably had his plane ticket waiting at the front desk. He was just too self-absorbed to check in with them about it, but it was more likely that Paimon had gotten to it first.

        But… he understood now. The demon who he called a friend, wasn’t a demon at all.

        It was Pan. And Pan was playing him. He had been playing him from the very start.

        If he had heard the Oracle correctly the first time, he would have known that his true love would be found. He wouldn’t have drunk himself half to death and he wouldn’t have dangled himself off the balcony of his room. And if all of that was true- then he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to consort with something like him, demon or not. Paimon-Pan- wanted him desperate. Wanted Lyrem to need him. He needed Lyrem to see him as his one and only salvation.

        There, for when Maria couldn’t be.

        “I need to speak to him.”

        A firm hand pushed him back down in his seat. It was invisible, but strong.

        “He’ll annihilate you like an ant, Lyrem. Believe me, I’ve seen it many times. You’re not the first human he’s trained this way.” Persephone cooed, softly.

        “Trained?!” Lyrem repeated emphatically, insulted. “No, no… I just need to talk to him. He’s…”

        “-your friend?”

        Lyrem paled, and then swallowed.

        “Yes! Yes, he is! And when I speak with him, then… I’m sure everything will be explained”-

        He cut himself off. There was no reason for him to make excuses for Paimon. He lied to him, and he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

        “Arch is with him now. You don’t think he would hurt, Arch, do you?”

        Hades’ face became painted in concern for Lyrem and his friend’s well-being. He didn’t want to answer the poor man. Persephone interjected.

        “He also has one of my brothers- Apollo is trapped in our realm. We have to save him from Pan. I have no idea what he’ll do to him,” Persephone turned to Hades in urgency, though, neither Hades nor Lyrem would have known it. “Uncle, this whole time we’ve assumed that it was Maria who had a connection with Pan and therefore Apollo. But how likely is it that Apollo used Arch to send his call?”

        Hades lifted his eyebrows in consideration.

        “If this Arch is important to Lyrem and has a connection to Pan, then it is quite likely Apollo would find a way to use them.”

        “What’s his call for? Why are you searching for it in me? In my head?” Lyrem asked. “If you can explain to me what to look for then I might already know what it is. I could show it to you!”

        “And that could be enough to help you find him and release him,” the sound of Persephone’s smile resounded through her words. “Once Apollo is released from his prison, he could open a door into the Labyrinth instantly and release us.

        His call, it would have been something musical. Something special to you. Arch would have been present for it.”

        “A song playing then? Or maybe an earworm?” Lyrem suggested.

        Hades shuddered. “Oh, I don’t want to know what that looks like- if it’s anything like Opus and its iridescent coloured slime”-

        “I don’t think I recall any earworms… Wait…” Lyrem had a sudden stroke of genius; something bizarre that he had remembered ever since he had met Arch several months ago. “’Everyone knows City and Colour’.” He repeated Arch’s words slowly back to himself.

        “Cities and colours?,” Persephone questioned, "What do they have to do with this?”

        “It doesn’t have anything to do with this. However,” Lyrem refuted. A small smirk curled itself alongside his face. “I do believe Segovia might…”

[verecunda]

🐬 Sutcliff Ask Meme 🐬

Because it’s my meme, and I’ll answer it if I want to. :P Under a cut for long-windedness.

Rules: answer the questions, tag anyone who you think might want to play along, and - if you like - add a question of your own.

1. Your favourite work by Sutcliff.

This is such a tough choice, but I think in the end I have to go with The Eagle of the Ninth. It’s been a part of my life for so long, and it’s one of those books I know I can always return to and get lost in.

2. Your favourite bearer of the dolphin ring.

ALL OF THEM. It’s a tie between Marcus and Alexios. They are my Boys. <3

3. A supporting or background character you love.

Again, a tough one, but I think I’ll go with one I’ve never seen anyone else talk about: Helen, the madam turned thrall turned rebel leader at Eburacum in Sword at Sunset. She’s the one who plans with Jason the smith to keep watch for Artos and his Companions pursuing the Saxons to the city walls, so they and their fellow thralls can fall on the defenders from the rear and keep the gates open to let the Companions in. When Jason tells Artos about it, I was like goodforher.jpg. :) I’d love to know more about what happened to her!

4. Your favourite animal companion.

Cub, surely. Though I also have a great soft spot for Shan the wildcat from Mark of the Horse Lord. :D

5. Is there any setting you find especially memorable?

So many! The farm on the Downs, of course, since we follow its whole life, from the first dream of it at the end of Eot9, to the cosy, welcoming sanctuary it is in The Silver Branch, then its death in The Lantern Bearers.

But I love ruins, like the spooky chapter in Trimontium in Eagle, and I’m still captivated by the last scene of Dawn Wind, with the Wild gently taking over the abandoned city of Viroconium.

6. Wild geese flighting and striped native rugs: is there a classic Sutcliff motif that never fails to warm your heart when it appears?

The green plover calling. I don’t know why, but it’s one of the details that always makes me go, “ah yes, here we are.”

7. The natural world is a vivid presence in all her work. Is there any particular nature description that sticks in your mind?

So many! Especially sunsets. I adore the way she describes sunsets. But I’ll put this one from The Silver Branch, since to me it encapsulates the general theme of Sutcliff’s work so well:

But the night itself was very still, behind the sounds of the camp. A wonderful night, up here above the mist; the bracken of the hillside frozen into silver stillness below the dark fleece of thorn-scrub that covered the higher slopes on either side, the moon still low in a glimmering sky that seemed brushed over with a kind of moth-wing dust of gold. Somewhere far down the widening valley a vixen called to her mate, and somehow the sound left the silence empty.

Justin thought, ‘If we are killed tomorrow, the vixen will still call across the valley to her mate. Maybe she has cubs somewhere among the root-tangle of the woods. Life goes on.’ And the thought was somehow comforting.

8. Biggest tearjerker. (Happy or sad tears!)

The end of The Lantern Bearers, for sure. The perfect ending to such a long, hard journey! I read it last December, and I’m still not over it.

9. How did you first discover Sutcliff?

Through loving Roman Britain. I grew up near the line of the Antonine Wall (on the north side - beyond the frontier!), so I’ve always been pretty fascinated by the idea of Romans being just down the road omg, and I remember my dad telling me the story of the lost legion once while we were out walking. It was only a matter of time before I found out about Sutcliff, really! Though, oddly, although I was aware of the book for a long time, I only ended up reading it in my teens, after I’d rekindled my love for Roman history.

10. What is it about her work that appeals to you the most?

So much! She’s absolutely one of my favourite writers. The atmospheric flair of her prose, her endearing characters; her deft skill at incorporating mythological symbolism into her stories in a way that’s rich but not at all intrusive; her consummate ability to wrench the heartstrings, always tempered by the humour and compassion and nuances she brings to her characters and narrative... 

Ultimately, however, she’s the writer who speaks to that part of me that goes about aware (consciously or unconsciously) of that lost ancient world just on my doorstep, and brings it to life for me.

11. A book that deserves more love.

The Silver Branch. Outside fandom, it seems to get passed over as being a bit more of a straightforward “boy’s own” type of adventure, while I suspect that from a fannish POV, it doesn’t have the shippy appeal that, say, Eot9 or Frontier Wolf have. 

But while I’d agree it’s not perhaps not as rich as other entries in the series, it’s much more than a simple adventure story. The characters are wonderfully drawn - it was more than ten years between my first and second readings, but I still had very vivid memories of how lovable Justin and Flavius were, and how awesome Aunt Honoria was! Even more than that, the world of TSB is very much a forerunner to the world of The Lantern Bearers. Overgrown altars stand alone in the wild, and monuments to Rome’s past glories are broken up to shore up defences against the incoming Saxons, while Carausius looks ahead to the time that the lights go out. It’s a very melancholy book beneath the battles and skulduggery. 

12. A book you haven’t read yet, but want to.

Sun Horse, Moon Horse. It’s never been one that was high on my Gotta Read list, but after Sword at Sunset - where the White Horse is the scene for Artos’ crowning - I’d like to read it to get a fuller sense of its history and significance in the Sutcliffverse.

13. Which book(s) would you love to get a film or TV adaptation?

Frontier Wolf!!! I also think Outcast in particular would make a great CBBC serial - you know, the ones that are officially for kids but the adults sit glued to as well.

14. Is there any historical period, incident, or figure you wish she’d written about?

Too many to list! But after reading Sword Song, with its gorgeous little description of the sea around Iona, and Dawn Wind, featuring the coming of St Augustine, I’m rather sad she never wrote anything featuring St Columba. His story has lots of elements that I think would appeal to her - conflict and alliances between Dalriada and the Picts, old religions and new (and the places where they’re not very different after all), the whole idea of creating something new and great out of the ashes of exile and disgrace. And I’d love to see her take on some of the set-pieces in Adomnán, like the conflict with Broichan, the Pictish druid. I think she would have had a really interesting take on my favourite bellicose Irish saint!

15. Rec a Sutcliff-themed fanwork (fic, art, vid, etc.) to share with fellow fans.

There is so much that’s brilliant in Sutcliff fandom omg. But for the purposes of this meme, I’m going to rec one of my gifts from last year’s Yuletide, The Sun Rises, as being perfect for the time of year. FW, Alexios/Hilarion. It’s a lovely introspective piece, with a very nice sense of setting, Mithraic references and light symbolism, and the bond drawn between Alexios and Hilarion is understated and perfect. The intimacy of the moment where their wolfskins brush together makes me go !!!! every time. <3

And lastly, just out of interest… how far is it from Venta to the mountains?

All of two hundred miles, but you didn’t hear that from me......

And I’ve previously tagged some folks, but again, if you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged!

[ldybluerse]

The Nice and Accurate Tale of Beauty and the Beast

Chapter Six: Beauty and the Beast Good Omens AU

There is little for a Fallen to do when they are not getting into trouble; they are only really meant for trouble-making.  Not to worry though, most Fallen love making and getting into trouble, they love it even more when they get other people involved in their troublesome trouble.  

All Fallen, but one.  

Crowley didn’t mind the idea of trouble or even making smaller amounts of it, nothing that would really hurt someone unless that person was inclined towards harm already.  Crowley also was not a fan of going into town during some peak trouble-making hours (when the shops are busy or at night when there was less people out but more nefarious sorts of trouble are lurking around).  

This meant that Crowley had a lot of time on his hands.  He dedicated his extra time towards the gardens in and around his castle.  As he did not have anyone else to speak to most days, Crowley would talk to the plants.  Though, perhaps “talk” was too gentle of a term for what Crowley did.  He put the fear of Crowley into the plants, making them the most lush, colorful, and vibrant plants in all of France.  His roses were extraordinarily terrified, which is why they always minded their thorns and never curled a petal.  The colors of the roses were beyond anything anyone would find outside of the greenhouse and the scent of those roses could be considered intoxicating to the human nose.

But it was not the roses that Aziraphale saw first.  It wasn’t their sweet fragrance that he took note of right away.  It was not even the perfect display of colors and verdant leaves that gave Aziraphale reason to pause just inside the door.  The roses were the furthest thing from his mind as he gave his full, undivided attention, to the mass on the floor amongst the flowers.

Crowley was asleep, his serpentine lower body coiled in a loose circle while his upper body draped lazily over a portion of his lower half.  Aziraphale watched as slow and even breaths moved the large Naga’s chest in a pattern that marked Crowley as asleep before Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to the thick lashes resting against a speckled cheek.  Being careful to not make a sound, he approached taking in every detail that he could of the Naga before him.

Aziraphale admired the long mess of red curls that spilled over pale and slender shoulders.  A smile playing at the curve of his lips as he noticed the freckles that blemished those shoulders. 

He studied the way that sleep softened Crowley’s angular face, took away harsh lines of unease and distrust.  It made what was striking, tender instead.  From closed off to relaxed.  From beast to beauty.

Aziraphale noted the lack of wings, meaning that Crowley could easily “put them away”, as it were, if he wished.  The Favoured’s smile made a small appearance as he thought of the earlier display with them out was all for intimidation and show.  With lazy strides he walked his way slowly around the Fallen, admiring the sheen of obsidian scales in his magic light.  Crowley’s hair had tumbled in a way that Azirphale could see how the black snake scales continued up his back, tapering as it ascended his spin.  He wondered if the scales of his tail were as smooth as a snake’s?  

Was his hair as soft as it looked?

The Favoured should, strictly speaking, strive for asceticism, a life of rigorous routines and self-denial.  And while Aziraphale could pretend that he was like that, the truth is, he is a hedonist.  Indulging in earthly pleasures never gets in Aziraphale’s way of doing what he thinks is best and being a helping hand as much as he can, yet it means he was far from able to avoid temptation.  He collected books, pretending that he sold them was his cover story to the higher ranks that helped cover his love of “material objects”.  The utter joy and delight he gained from reading, how utterly enchanting the written word was.

Pretending to be human meant that Aziraphale had a reason to enjoy food, sip all manner of drinks, relax in beautifully crafted clothing.  He loved it all.  Which should be enough to tell anyone that Aziraphale was not very good at resisting temptations.  Especially small ones, that meant no one was harmed over.  

Aziraphale’s hand raised before he was fully aware of it.  He hesitated, withdrawing his hand back and shaking his head a fraction.  As if needing a leash on the wayward right hand, Aziraphale held his fingers with the left; thumb and pointer playing with the gold signet ring on Aziraphale’s right pinky finger.  He looked Crowley over again, once more noting he was indeed asleep before he allowed his hand to reach up and graze the fire locks.

The corners of Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled as his brows raised, yes, the hair was as soft as it looked, if a bit messy.  His smile was no longer hiding as he gently touched the Fallen’s curls.  Tenderly he brushed back the hair to get a better look at all of Crowley’s sleeping face.  His fingers were light as they tucked some of the long strands behind a pointed ear, his fingers lingering over the snake tattoo that rested before Crowley’s right ear.  

~*~*~*~

Crowley came awake to the soft strokes of someone brushing his hair.  The temptation to allow this to continue as long as possible was too great.  Keeping his eyes closed, Crowley relished in the tender sensation.  It had been so long since someone touched him so gently, so long in fact he couldn’t pinpoint when the last time such a thing had happened.  He was certain he never had his hair brushed for him since he became a Fallen, living in isolation.  Crowley questioned whether someone had ever brushed his hair even before his curse.  Favoured were not the touchy-feely type.  

He decided that he didn’t want to think about the past or how lonely he had been, instead he would focus on the soothing hands playing in his hair.  There was no tugging or harsh scrapes against his scalp, even when the Favoured came across a tangle in his hair, it was worked out with the utmost care.  He was at ease in that moment, Crowley should have been panicked, at the very least worried; he was in a vulnerable position with his supposed enemy extremely close at hand.  He should get mad because the Favoured clearly did not follow orders to stay out of the West Wing.

Crowley couldn’t bring himself to be anything but in relaxed bliss.

When the brushing stopped, he almost let out an audible whimper because it was over far too soon.  The brush was replaced by deft hands that was working the hair.  Crowley could feel that something was happening but had no clue as to what the Favoured was doing.  “What are you up to…” It was in that moment Crowley remembered he did not actually know the other man’s name.  A few strangled sounds later, after Crowley was done tripping over his tongue, he tried again, “What are you up to Angel?” 

Aziraphale was surprised by the nickname, Angel, what a strange thing to call him.  Humans created the mythology of Angels and Demons to explain the strange things that happen when Fallen and Favoured are about.  Who is to say that Favoured were not Angels but by another name.  Still, it was an odd thing to call him just because of the human stories.  “I am braiding your hair Dear.”

Dear?!  Crowley had not expected an endearment in return.  “Yes, well… uh...ngk…” Crowley was worse than tongue-tied as his brain short-circuited and left him without any response at all.

Aziraphale was enjoying how Crowley’s pointed ears turned as red as his hair when he blushed.  Who knew something he called everyone would have such an impact on Crowley?  “When was the last time you tended to your hair?  It was in such a state.”

“I think a couple of days, I had a long nap before my “mail delivery”.  I didn’t think I needed to brush my hair before I left.”

“Ah yes, the matter of you delivering, what I am hoping is medicine.  Although that Baker child got sick so suddenly she may have gotten ill due to poison.” Suddenly the hands that were styling his hair stopped.  They were barely touching him but Crowley could feel the stiffness.  “You are not at fault for people getting sick are you?”  Aziraphale was horrified that he had just now thought of such a thing.

“Of course not!  I have nothing to do with anyone getting sick.  And I don’t hurt kids, my kind might do that sort of thing but that isn’t something I would do.”  Crowley glanced as best he could over his shoulder to where Aziraphale was standing.  

“Oh… you can hardly blame me for being suspicious you are a Fallen.  A working apothecary that belongs to a Fallen would produce poisons, not medicines.  That is why I wanted to ask you.”

“And you would believe me if I told you I didn’t poison random people?”

“Well, no?  I supposed I should not.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I have no reason to believe or trust you.”

Crowley decided he didn’t want to hear how much of a beast he was because of the curse.  “And why have you been poking about the West Wing, when I expressly told you not to.”  

“You must realize the best way to get someone to do something you do not want them to do, is to tell them not to do it.  Besides, I wanted to know what you were up to and hiding.  Whether or not there was a cause for concern.”

“Of course there is cause for concern.  It’s not like I am a nice person.”

“Mmhmm… do you mind terribly if I pluck a few roses?”

“You’ll do what you want anyway, so why ask?”

“You can hardly blame me for being curious,” Crowley felt the loss of heat from the Favoured’s body as he stepped away and towards some of the roses.  “We have just met and did not speak much…”

“You wanted to stop talking,” Crowley interrupted.  He received a raised brow and stern look for that one.

“Yes, well, we hardly spoke.  It is my job to know what you are doing and to stop you.  I see no reason to stop you from healing sick children, as I now know that is what you are doing.”  Aziraphale walked back once he selected several beautiful white roses that would accent Crowley’s hair and eyes.

Crowley stiffened ever so slightly when the other was back, his fingers working with his hair once more, weaving the flowers through the tamed mane.  

“Besides, I found myself rather bored.  There is not much for me to do besides explore.  Were I not your “prisoner”, I would happily be out of your hair and back at my bookshop.”

Crowley made an undignified sound, “We both know you are no prisoner Angel.  So there must be another reason you are staying.”

“Curiosity.  About you, you do not act like other Fallen I have come across or heard about.  Ah, there we are.  All done, and such a lovely sight.”  Aziraphale beamed as he looked over his work.  “I have been rather rude, as I have not properly introduced myself yet.  I am Aziraphale.”

Crowley took several long moments for his brain to process everything Aziraphale had said in those short few sentences.  “Yes..well.. Uh… You own a bookstore?”

“Yes, it is my disguise as I investigate the Fallen activity in this area.”

“You need a disguise?”

“If I wish to blend in with the humans, I should act like one.”

“People don’t notice things Angel.  They happily go about their lives without ever noticing odd things happening.  I suppose this means you like books?”

——————————————————

I regret nothing.

[starwarshyperdrive]

The Rise of Skywalker - adding my very important opinion to the internet.

Opinions are like **holes, everyone has one. Just that this isn’t true. People rarely substitute theirs with someoelse’s **hole. 

Looking back at some of my predictions I was wrong about some major plot points. I always said that the Bendemption and Reylo would make me walk out of the cinema. I thought it would be the two things that would ruin Star Wars for me and quite arrogantly assumed it’s ‘too stupid for Star Wars’. 

Now.. I stand corrected. To be honest, after the premiere I didn’t know what to think. Like everyone else I had this idea what the movie should be in my head. All the puzzle pieces I put together to a picture I liked. All the clues that lead my to my own personal conclusion. And like everyone else I saw the movie through this filter. 

I have to divert a bit to explain what I mean.

A Zen master was asked about Zen by a critical guest. Instead of answering he filled the guest’s teacup but did not stop pouring when the cup was full and the tea spilled out and ran over the table. 

"Stop! The cup is full!" said the guest.

"Exactly," said the Zen Master. "You are like this cup; you are full of ideas. You come and ask for teaching, but your cup is full; I can't put anything in. Before I can teach you, you'll have to empty your cup."

Letting go of our expectations is hard. Very hard. There is comfort in the familiar. There is stubbornness in wanting to be right. The unknown is scary and we want to be in control of our own narrative. So I watched the movie again and saw it for what it is. I’m gonna be honest. I am a ‘true believer’ and apologist. I will find goodness in every bit. If you want to find mistakes you will find them. Psychologically we mostly make up our minds whether or not we’ll like the movie before we see it subconsciously. Then we just look for proof we’re right. I didn’t really want to see Joker. I expected it to be a pretentious attempt to make a Scorsese 70ies movie while lacking substance. And that’s exactly what I’ve got. Knowing what to expect in the 2nd viewing I was able to appreciate it more. There is so much depth and love for Star Wars in it that’s not apparent if you walk out of the 1st screening snubbed about what you don’t understand. I sound like a broken record when I say Star Wars is not a Comic Book movie, not everything has to be explained or tie into everything perfectly. Just look at the Original Trilogy. Nothing is 100% clear. Obi Wan is twisting the truth and nothing aligns perfectly. Star Wars is like a Greek myth. WHY did Thetis dip Achilles in the river Styx? What was her motivation? How could she forget to dip his heel? That’s stupid. That’s RUINING Greek mythology.   

I liked the movie, very much. I’m not even sure if it might not be my favorite sequel. Before I go into my thoughts here is what I didn’t like.

I liked it, yes, but that doesn’t keep me from agreeing that it seemed like a mash-up of fan-service. And with fan service I mean the kind of parents who have no idea would give their kids. ‘You like your Nintendos, right? The man at the shop said this is as good.’ It somehow felt like a panicked corporate decision to undo the backlash after The Last Jedi (a movie I have seen 13 times in the cinema and now consider to be the weakest installment since Attack of the Clones), so they mistook the loudest voices on the internet to be the most representative for all fans. So they had to include Bendemption and Reylo because ..fanfiction.. ?! And people have long asked for ‘bring back Legends’ so throw in a bit of that. And then we need Han Solo and the Emperor to save this trilogy after we made the mistake of not overseeing what these film makers actually do and have an overall idea for the trilogy and Rian Johnson wrote the story into a corner. The Last Jedi felt more like the 3rd movie of a trilogy, so what are we gonna do? Rey has to be SOMEONE, right? How about the emperor is suddenly interested in his bloodline for some reason despite the Sith never having cared about that (what is her midi-chlorian count?). 

But I can live with all of that and I have my explanations for everything. Palpatines son who must’ve been born after his face got all f**ked up. So was he a clone? Some sort of attempt to create life like Anakin? An artificially created baby like the Nazis did to get a super soldier, just to be able to possess his body and when he ran off and fled he was more interested in his ‘granddaughter’ because her body was even younger? Did the force skip a generation like some diseases.  Not everything has to be answered, but it’s fun to think about these things. I find this to be more Star Wars than the thought he had a wife all the time, which is absolutely not in character. 

The one thing I didn’t like was the super cringy, cheap jump-scare with monster teeth during the Dark Rey scene. We have seen this too often. It’s not ‘worthy of Star Wars’. It didn’t even look good in IT or any other movie. 

And the kiss? Would I have cut it out if I’d have something to say. YES DEFINITELY. Do I think it’s romantic and actually hints to romantic feelings? HELL NO! In my opinion their bond is different. Calling it romantic undermines their connection and ridicules something that could be very deep. Kylo/Ben even says it, they are a Dyad. Whatever that means, it surely doesn’t mean something straight-out of Twilight. I see the kiss as relief, burst of emotion. Not unlike a kiss a mother would give a child that has been missing or rescued from peril. Affection yes, romance no (aka ‘no tongue’). The beauty of it is that it’s ambiguous. If you want them to be in love, then you can think that for yourself, probably wondering why she is not really grieving.

I said I’d hate Bendemption and many people have stated that Ben should’ve survived. No offense but this is completely missing the point. The way his redemption is portrayed is absolutely beautiful. The shame and regret in Ben that leads him to the realization what he needs to do is what makes his who he is. He says it himself. He can’t go back to his mother. She sacrificed herself for him. He killed his father. Everything is lost for him. He made so many mistakes. But he can do the right thing for once by saving Rey. And this is why he disappears. This is why he became one with the force. If it he’d have survived there wouldn’t have been a redemption. Ben Solo was ‘weak and foolish’ which led him to the dark side. Ben Solo is flawed, the good in him understood that to kill the looming darkness he has to sacrifice himself. Like the Terminator at the end of Judgement day. This is what made the scene so powerful and mirrored Vader. Ironically you could say he finally became like Vader in the last moments of his life.

As for the emperor being alive. Why not. If you’re that sort of badass and considering that Maul and Vader both survived major injuries with the aid of the dark side of the force it’s not that unlikely. And here is something some people seem to miss. He is desperately looking for a new vessel to transfer his spirit into because he is a corpse. He is a corpse on life support. As hinted at in the movie and as explained in the visual dictionary he is being kept ‘alive’ by a mixture of medical aids and Sith alchemy. One might argue that ‘we never heard about Sith cultists and all that’ but that’s not entirely true. Even outside of the books, comics and what not there are things you can easily retcon to fit the narrative. Just look at the emperors advisors in Return of the Jedi. At the time of The Force Awakens there have been theories that Snoke is nothing but a puppet. I have used the Wizard of Oz comparison before. When we got to see him ‘in the flesh’ in The Last Jedi we were nothing the wiser. So that somehow adds up.

Chewie got a medal now? Well that just serves to show what I always say: no one in the cinematic universe cares a great deal about books and comics. A lot of fans are always so eager to see stuff from canon in the movies and get upset when there are contradictions (also see S-foil from Lukes X-wing being used as door) but I think it’s best to consider whatever is not in the movies as ‘soft canon’ and take it with a grain of salt. This might change in the future now that Star Wars is free of the shackles of the Skywalker saga and it;’s very likely they learned from the lack of consistency, but it also opens it up to mediocracy and weird stuff like the world between worlds and space whales.

If you only watched the movie once there are many things that might have slipped by you. Which is a shame. I think some f the outspoken critics will change their minds about the movie over time. A lot of the emotional backbone of the movie was in these tiny moments, such as the scene in which Rey feels that she won’t see Leia again and has to say good bye. It is in the open whether or not Leia feels it too and just taunts her by saying ‘tell me when you're back’.

Let me just say that Rose is absolutely cool in this. I always maintained the position that the backlash against her character was mostly based on the weak costume design that made her more like like a cosplayer. Now that she looked the part she was fantastic. It’s not about quantity. Her screen time was impactful. The argument that JJ cut her screen time in favor of his buddies is ridiculous and uninformed. Everyone had their specific parts to serve the story. According to the visual dictionary Dominic Monaghans character was a former teacher and served as the ‘Sith’ expert to explain why the Resistance wasn’t collectively going ‘umm wut?’ when they heard about Palpatine being back and all that. Greg Grunberg was the link to the fleet and Rose was at the heart of operations. I can't understand how this isn’t obvious. 

And in conclusion let’s talk about the impossible task to end a 9 part saga, with the additional challenge of having lost Carrie Fisher. Can you even imagine being in that predicament? How did JJ Abrams say yes to this? Well knowing that he’d get shit from all sides. RESPECT! It is a miracle the movie turned out the way it did. I liked it and if we look at the numbers of things I didn’t like in the other movies despite liking them it might become my favorite or close 2nd of the sequel trilogy over time. Only this blade tells.

[diloph]

Pardon me, but it seemed from some of your posts on KOTM that you didn't like Mark Russell that much. I know he was a cliche everyman type, but what exactly made him any worse than others in these movies?

I apologise if this isn’t my most coherent answer. I’m a little bit stressed at the moment, trying to finish the next chapter of IIID and create relevant, if poorly assembled memes before the Invader Zim movie is released.

To be honest, some of it is a bit tongue-in cheek. Making fun of the most visible character in the film, considering that he hates Godzilla with a burning passion, is just a little bit of fun. It’s like how I refer to Rick Stanton with disdain sheerly because he’s somewhat based on Rick Sanchez, who I don’t dislike either.

The film isn’t about Mark: King of the Fathers anyway, so if I completely despised him, I could just zone out during his scenes, or skip them when the DVD comes out.

But… some of it wasn’t so jokey. He’s still an okayish protagonist, I’ve got nothing against the actor himself and his acting is fine. Still, Mark was loud, abrasive and hated Godzilla; you know, things that grate on my nerves when it comes to a 2+ hour Godzilla movie and that made the character… trying.

We’ve had them before, but Godzilla was generally more villainous and obviously, we feel sympathy and camaraderie with him as the title character and we are here to see him do cool things. Having a human protagonist who hates our cool monster protagonist makes sense in universe, but ultimately, it’s not what we’re here for. We can tune that out.

As for what makes me dislike Mark… for starters, he’s kind of a prick. I once saw somebody describe him as the type of guy who thinks that if he speaks loudly enough, shouts enough, he’ll get his way. I can’t say I blame them, in that first meeting with MONARCH, he’s downright hostile.

He’s also, for whatever reason, the guy that everybody turns to in the crisis. He might have a background in bioacoustics like his ex-wife and animal behaviour besides, but apparently nobody else at MONARCH is capable of doing things without the express instructions or approval of everyman Indiana Jones. Military procedures, common sense, the desperate plan to revive Godzilla; everybody seems to defer to him really quickly.

It took me out of the movie. I understand that he’s meant to be our relatable protagonist, but it’s a little bit jarring and it happens multiple times. Mark is either issuing instructions or is along where he shouldn’t be, given control of a situation where by all rights he shouldn’t have any other than spur of the moment hero stuff.

It’s like he believes that nobody has any common sense and frustratingly, a couple of times the narrative agrees with him or at least proves his actions right. For example, when Colonel Foster tries to brief MONARCH on the actions of Jonah and the terrorists, he shoots down her theory and proceeds to go on a rant as to why we should Destroy All Monsters.

He’s right, as Jonah wants to free King Ghidorah, but he has this frustrating “protagonist only” habit of noticing threads that other characters really should (nobody seems to notice that the Titans are attacking capital cities or at least very densely populated areas until he points it out), then speaks about it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Which when MONARCH is meant to be staffed with scientists of multiple disciplines veers back into the incredulous. I can suspend disbelief when it comes to giant monsters, I don’t excuse people not seeing what’s in front of them.

And as for the moments where he really shouldn’t be issuing instructions, take a look at when Rodan is freed by Emma Russell. Serizawa instantly defers to him (I think that Mark might have been his senior before he left MONARCH and BOY do I want to talk about that plan later on) to cook up a plan instead of… himself (Director of MONARCH, or at least I assume so) or again, Foster, who controls the planes and men he wants to send at the giant pterodactyl that just shrugged off a molten lava flow.

Given his characterisation as an angry, driven father who is desperately looking out for his family after being bereaved by monsters and is butting heads with the scientists at MONARCH, I think it was an attempt by Legendary to recreate Joe Brody. Bryan Cranston’s character in the previous film was killed off too early and was featured in a lot of the trailers, giving a wonderful performance. When he died to be replaced by his son, Ford, it caused a backlash as a result.

Mark being that angry, snarky character definitely shares some similarities. But while Joe was a crusader for the truth and more than a little bit obsessive, he was trying to pierce the veil as to why his wife died, without realising that it drove his son away from him. He was trying to reveal this great coverup to the world and spent the rest of his life doing so with such conviction that he appeared crazy.

Mark… doesn’t have this driving force. He lives in a post-San Francisco universe. Monsters Exist and everybody knows it.

Now, that’s not to say he doesn’t have reasons for acting as he did. He lost his son and has driven a wedge in between his family via his drinking problem (but let’s face it, compared to unleashing the Titans by starting off with Space Dragon Satan, he’s taken it comparatively well) but he acts as if he’s the only person who has ever lost something to Godzilla and the rest of the monsters.

Even when that happens to characters in the film, Mark still acts like that and it doesn’t make him look like the grim, determined hero, it just makes him look like an obnoxious dick. It isn’t his way of coping with the trauma of loss, he just… does it.

Part of me does get why he’s annoyed and angry with MONARCH’s attitude towards the Titans. He’s correct that they’ve been keeping secrets, dangerous ones at that, but equally the kaiju are living things. They’re dangerous and unpredictable, yes, but MONARCH have been taking precautions; killswitches are present in even the supposedly benevolent Titan’s chambers like Mothra and as far as they know, all of the Titans bar Godzilla are dormant and those that aren’t are kept in check by him. Had the Ghidorah Crisis never arose, we may never have seen any other Titans for the rest of human history.

But he treats everybody around him like an idiot with little to no prompting. Mark is brought on as a consultant and he then proceeds to dominate the scene, either through his decisions in universe or the part written for him out of it. He gets the last word, the last say on a plan or a witty remark or whatever.

And some of that costs lives. Actually, no, a LOT of it costs lives.

So, to start off, when the operation in Antarctica goes tits up, Mark grabs a handgun and goes into Outpost 32 by himself (though what he and the central nervous system of MONARCH were doing on the ground and not supervising from the Argo remains to be seen, but I digress). He stops Jonah and the terrorists on the walkway… screwing up Foster’s attempt to take down Jonah, forcing her to snipe his henchman in order to save Mark’s life.

This leads to King Ghidorah waking up. Not going to extend him a great deal of blame for this one, as with a sniper present, Emma or Madison would have been forced (or “forced” in the former’s case) to retrieve the detonator and the Six-Eyed, Six-Horned, Flying-Golden-People-Eater would have gotten loose regardless. Hell, I spotted clues that he was gearing up to wake up without Emma Russell’s help.

In a narrative sense, its his character that also sets up Vivienne Graham’s death. If he hadn’t been stuck in the tangle of wires and metal aboard the Osprey, she would never have needed to stay behind to help and subsequently got singled out by King Ghidorah.

I’d definitely agree that this is more of a personal thing on my part, as I’d wanted to see more of Vivienne’s character thanks to her actress’, Sally Hawkins’ work in The Shape Of Water and that in the previous film. But in a way, he is still sort of responsible for her being written out and replaced with the vastly less interesting replacement characters of Rick and Mor- erm, Sam.

That said, I know that Ghidorah is 100% to blame in universe. He killed her because he was a bastard and I wanted to him to be a bastard, so the monkey’s paw curled a finger there, so that’s egg on my face. It certainly did wonders for establishing him as a monstrous villain who we love to hate.

I’m not wholly unsympathetic to Mark. Like I said before, the pain of loss over the 2014 attacks hurt him badly and the film doesn’t shy away from this. Mark’s descent into alcoholism is noted by both himself and his family as a rough time for all involved, part of the reason he left MONARCH in the first place. Having his daughter and ex-wife seemingly kidnapped by dangerous ecoterrorists who plan to unleash giant monsters to mass-cull humanity also wears his patience thin, as you might expect it.

But he keeps this… horrible attitude throughout the movie. The world is literally going to shit, another monster is about to be unleashed and he asks if MONARCH have had enough common sense to evacuate the town of Isla Del Mara and if Rodan has had a cutesy name all picked out from mythology for him ahead of time.

Fuck me, if I was Serizawa, having just lost my protégé and quite a few well-meaning soldiers who were trying to rescue somebody who turned out to be a massive ecoterrorist nutjob, I would have floored him. There is a time and a place for snarky comments and it is not after at least twenty people you worked with are dead and BILLIONS MORE MAY FOLLOW.

But now, one of the points that really got me disliking Mark Russell follows here. The scenes that start at Isla Del Mara and the luring of Rodan to King Ghidorah, all the way up until the detonation of the Oxygen Destroyer.

Rodan emerges from the volcano and asides from spreading his wings and roaring, doesn’t do much. He spots the incoming Argo and its entourage and narrows his eyes. Uh oh! Surely, at this point, the dastardly destruction god would leap from his perch in an attempt to chase this challenger from his territory?

Um… no. No, actually, he stays put.

Now, I get that Rodan might not have stayed that way for very long. From the ensuing chase scene, I can gather that the Monsterverse’s version of Rodan is a bit of a dick, but he still didn’t start the fight.

Instead, what happens is that Serizawa asks Mark what they should do and Mark comes up with the plan to get Rodan to fight King Ghidorah in the hopes that one will kill the other and that would at least solve one of their problems.

Sound in theory, yes, but it is not sound in execution. At all.

So, that little town that Mark kicked up quite a fuss about? As you might have noticed, it’s lying between Rodan and the Argo and is part of the reason that the big ol’ bird should be lured away, to complete the evacuation.

Mark’s brilliant plan has the jets surrounding the Argo to blast Rodan and 180 the superplane in order to get him to chase… without factoring in THE TOWN BETWEEN THEM AT ALL.

I get King Ghidorah was closing in. I get that Rodan is a wild, unpredictable animal who could go off the chain at any moment. But there was absolutely no time to get the ARGO to move a little ways around the island before beginning the attack? At worst, Rodan would make a dive for them anyway, but that’s what the jets are sent in to distract him are for. To grab his attention and then lure him to the Argo, which would then take him to Tricephalopathic Terror Town anyway.

As a result, Rodan utterly OBLITERATES Isla Del Mara simply by passing over it and so many of the people they were trying to evacuate die a horribly pointless death. It never once passes his mind (or let’s not beat him down solely) or that of anybody aboard the Argo that a creature with wings that size that can fly would generate an unbelievable amount of force simply by flapping once to create lift? He’s also dripping lava, so even if the hurricane level winds that follow him weren’t an issue, having something with that amount of residual molten rock passing overhead doesn’t seem like a healthy thing to expose Isla Del Mara to.

Further dislike ensues when one of the miraculously surviving Ospreys issues a mayday during the Rodan/Ghidorah fight and the cargo doors are jammed. Mark the Hero leaps up with gritted teeth and desire to get things done, asking the way to the hangar. After all, he’s had miraculous problem solving abilities so far, why not?

“Which way to the hangar?” he asks.

Sam, a character who I’m even less fond of, stands up and offers to show him the way. Fairly brave, considering that the Argo is rattling like a leaf in a thunderstorm as two daikaiju battle nearby. I found the character annoying and sort of… pointless, but I admire that bit of bravery.

“Anybody else?” Mark asks, making a face.

Dude. The man just offered to help you and people need that help. Get off your high horse, swallow your pride and just go without comment. God knows how many people your stupid plan just got killed.

The two run to the hangar and a crewman explains the door is jammed. Mark decides to drop a hanging Osprey onto the doors to get them off… without suggesting it to the crewman. He just fucking goes for the buttons, expecting his usual “my plan will work” attitude to succeed.

At last, one of Mark’s harebrained schemes is met with reasonable resistance for the first time and the crewman attempts to wrestle him off, before Mark Is Proven Right Again. But even suggesting it, getting a refusal and then doing it is more heroic than just going for the damn buttons like a lunatic.

He would have looked damn stupid if the weight of the Osprey wasn’t enough to open the doors and it instead just blocked them. The falling aircraft also almost hits the airborne one with its civilian payload as it also wasn’t warned, so again, he took an unnecessary risk that came off lucky because he couldn’t find the time to say “I have an idea”.

To round out the trifecta of what makes me dislike Mark in these scenes is what happens when the rest of the scene plays out:

Gravity Beams spew from Ghidorah’s mouth and blast Rodan into the ocean, defeated. Not satisfied with just this victory, the Golden Demise locks his terrible gaze on the Argo and with a sickening, gleeful cackle, closes in on the plane and its freshly arrived civilians.

All are stunned into a horrified silence. Even Mark, who has been having Unreasonable Protagonist Luck up until this point, bricks it.

“Oh, God.” he pleads.

God answers and he erupts from the ocean.

With a deafening roar, the mighty form of Godzilla slams into King Ghidorah with the force of a collapsing mountain. His dynamic, mid-air leap is enough to drag the foul hydra into the depths of the ocean and Godzilla proceeds to hold him there.

Ghidorah attempts to resurface and fly away, or at least lash out at the Argo in spite, but there Godzilla is again, yanking the head back underwater, biting and rolling like some mountainous crocodile, pinning the alien dragon under his weight.

Unbeknownst to our hero (Godzilla, obviously), the military has deployed the terrible Oxygen Destroyer in an attempt to Destroy All Monsters, giving only a cursory warning to the Argo to get out of there and fast. Mark makes his way onto the bridge and is informed of the decision.

“But he… he just saved us!” says Mark.

No, wait, he didn’t say that. Hold on…

“They… they didn’t even let us get clear?” says Mark.

Uh, no, sorry, trying again.

“Well, it’s not the worst idea.” he says.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK. YOU.

I get that you’re mad with Godzilla. I get that as the title character with a long history, we root for the kaiju more than anybody else. I get that he took your son from you, but twice… TWICE NOW, he has saved you and the people around you with PERFECTLY TIMED ENTRANCES. Even if it was just a coincidence, I’d be at least slightly more forgiving of the lion that killed my brother by accident if it jumped in front of a tiger that was slaughtering people left and right before it leapt at me.

Twice.

There’s not even a hesitant “oh, but he did help us”. Not even a shocked disbelief that the military has a weapon that they think will kill not just one, but two (because I’m willing to bet he thought Rodan was dead) Titans, much less them firing it without warning right on top of their position. Just a “well, fuck ‘em” shrug.

Godzilla nearly dies, Ghidorah seizes control of the Titans and sets about starting the apocalypse. Finally, Serizawa says what I’ve been thinking for quite a while and says “Well, it looks like you got your wish, Mark.” with a mixture of anger, sadness and disgust.

I could go on; the Titans are rampaging and Mark goes to leave Castle Bravo to strike out on his own and rescue Madison, despite the fact that he knows that Emma will probably try to keep her safe in whatever secure hidey hole she and the Kaiju Cultists have holed up in. In the novel, he’s outright going to steal one (also his first instinct when confronted by an alpha wolf in the novel, is to blow it away with a sidearm, before realising that’s absolutely callous and horrible and tries submissive behaviour tactics instead. So hey, Movie Mark is a slightly better person than Book Mark).

Mark suggests the nuke plan and goes down with Serizawa, Chen and Rick Sanch- Stanton. Everything goes sideways and he doesn’t even fucking blink when Serizawa decides that somebody’s gotta do it manually.

Back aboard the Argo? How does he break the news to Sam, the only member of the MONARCH team that wasn’t there? Shoving Serizawa’s notebook into his chest, saying that they better not screw this up and not even fucking pausing to tell him what happened.

Mark’s self-centred attitude keeps coming back and it gets people killed. My second time viewing this film, during the two confrontation scenes with Godzilla, I wasn’t getting the “There is a massive threat in my territory!” vibe from the King of the Monsters, I was getting a “Who the hell is this asshole and why does he hate me so much?” feeling from Our Glorious Boy.

It’s a recurring theme too. Mark experiences loss, but he feels as if his loss is the only one that matters. Both he and Emma do this to Madison and it makes me mad that in trying to cope with their own loss, they shunned the one remaining child they had left. By the time they realise that, the world is literally about to end and they’re still bickering at one another.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m very vocally critical of Mark and Emma’s treatment of Madison. Both she and Mark decide to put their own ways of coping with their son’s death (constructing a device to allow for the orchestration of mass human death and convincing oneself that it’s the correct course of action/drinking booze) above Madison’s own well being.

When the chips are down, of course, they care for her and ultimately risk their lives to save her, but… congratulations for the bare minimum parenting, guys? Physically, they want her out of harm, but mentally she should either fall into line with Emma’s thinking or be there for Mark.

Godzilla and Mothra feel more like her bloody parents in this film (Godzilla saving her life when she was facing down the literal fucking devil and Mothra’s gentle interaction at the temple and reviving her from death when she appeared to have died in the novel) than the other Russells do. Both fill the archetypes of “Father” (tough, stern, but ultimately your protector) and “Mother” (gentle, nurturing and wonderful) better than the people do.

…yeah, alright, that one is a stretch, but I had that idea a while ago and I wanted to put it to paper.

In short, I’m mad at Sad Mad Dad because his character shoves the waaaaaaaay more interesting, compelling and sympathetic characters of Serizawa, Graham and his own daughter (and the actual goddamned non-monster hero of the movie), Madison out of the way of main character-ness, just so we can have somebody who is about as pleasant to interact with as a cactus.

King of the Monsters is a film that has a lot of sacrifice in it, good and bad. Emma wants to sacrifice most of humanity to save the planet. Serizawa sacrifices himself to save Godzilla and thus, the planet. Mothra sacrifices her own life to save Godzilla from King Ghidorah and so does Emma, to save her family and as redemption for her sins.

Even Madison was also ready to at least risk her own life to distract the Titans and King Ghidorah if it would even slightly disrupt his efforts to conquer the planet. She goes against terrorists, her own mother and a demonic, nigh-omnipotent being of malicious intent and faces him down with a defiant roar of her own when it looks like the end.

But Mark doesn’t sacrifice. He wants his daughter back, but he never takes a hit. Other people die for him, as a result of him and he doesn’t even recognise it. The world is at stake and he keeps his focus on his own desires, ignorant to the people around him because only his loss matters.

He might not be the genocidal monster in the film that Emma was, that Jonah and of course, Ghidorah certainly were. But he has a very narrow and dispassionate world-view and outside of certain cartoons with comedic circumstances, I don’t care much for that at all.

TL;DR: Madison should have been the central protagonist, because I like her more.

[soaringlanddormitory]

TeruSae AU drabble cuz I'm the s word for mythology aus

This has been in the inbox ever since I first posted about the aus and I’m sorry it took a wile jkbkgjfg Hope you like it though!! I wrote it also while waiting for the thing gkjdfbg

There were some mentioned so

The god of music belongs to @polar-star-dorks aka Emile!!

The goddess of dedication is Hanako and Rin belongs to @polar-stars!!

“You’re going to be a successful hero one day, Kuga Terunori.”

Those words were never forgotten by the younger hero. He couldn’t identify which god or goddess said that once he had successfully finished his frist quest. Certainly, even if the voice was not identifiable, he did believe that those words were unforgettable- and he wished he could know which of them said that to him that same day.

He could guess that he was favored by them, but he hated how his memories of how that voice sounded like was distorted after just a few days after. They probably didn’t want him to know either. It was rare for a human to hear the voice of them- especially that they were nothing related to a god at all. Demigods had it easy and they were allowed to remember the voices of them, maybe even remember their faces.

One day, he swore to the holy beings up above. He’d end up knowing which of them told him those words. He didn’t want to do anything bad- he only wanted to thank them. For believing in them even if people said otherwise. That he could be a successful hero just like Eishi Tsukasa. That was his dream and people told him it was impossible… and yet a divine being told him otherwise.

“Hero!” A playful yet loud whisper was heard by him.

He jumped aside before preparing his sword to fight, and he instantly placed it down once he saw the person- well, more of god- that said that. “It’s just you.” He was one of the ONLY gods and goddesses who didn’t go with the “don’t remember my appearance or voice” rule, and he was pretty thankful… sometimes.

“Just me? Oh how rude of you. I’m the main communication between you mortals and the rest of the gods.” He rolled his eyes before coughing. “Ahem. Messenger god, after all.” He coughed once again. “And you’re just a hero who is also pretty much a little runt.”

“You’re such a bastard even if you’re a damn god!” Kuga hissed, a bit irritated by the god’s comment. He was one of the more laid-back ones who loved teasing humans or fellow gods- so this caused him not to be worried of his words at all. “What do you want? I was supposed to rest before meeting Mister Smiley Hero.”

The god laughed before giving a tiny grin. “I, Kaoru, is here to drop a message from a god or goddess.”

“As always. But will you ever tell me which one?”

“Can’t.” Kaoru replied. “They told me not to say. And I go by my word.”

Kuga sheathed his sword before sighing. If he knew, he’d give even more offerings to them as a thank you. But well, he could never figure out who it was. He’s got several blessings over time, but Kaoru did say that they may have requested other holy beings to give him such. “Fine then, Red Wings.”

“How many times should I tell you to treat me with respect!” Kaoru shook his head in disappointment before placing his arm in a sack of letters. “You’re lucky that I’m in a good mood after hearing our most blessed Emile play a song before I went out to send messages to you mere humans.”

“Yeah, right, whatever. You probably won’t hurt a hero.” Kuga posed before winking. “The best hero at that.”

A tiny chuckle came out of the god before he handed out a letter to him. “Believe what you want to believe. Even if you’re one of the most known heroes, it doesn’t mean you’re the absolute best.” He began floating in mid-air before he snapped his fingers. “The God of Music and God of Dedication are not the most famous, but I do believe they’re one of the bests.”

“Maybe that’s personal bias.”

“Same goes to you calling yourself the best hero, little runt.”

‘You shit!“ Kuga growled before twitching. Yeah. Now he knew about this so-called god before, his respect for him died. "I fucking hate you.”

“I know you don’t. You’re probably just annoyed!”

“You’re a bitch.”

The messenger only laughed before vanishing into nothingness with his last words being “Don’t forget to check the letter.”

The hero slowly opened the letter and he began reading it with his eyes

“Dear Kuga Terunori,

I hope you received this letter in peace. I do know how troublesome our Messenger God can be, but please forgive him. He only wants to have some attachments to special humans like you. You’ll be having a next trial soon and I hope the other gods and goddesses will be in your favor. All I can say is, good luck and I wish you the best, young hero.”

As always, there was no information given to him about who sent it. A cocky smile appeared on his face. Of course he’d finish the trial in peace, but the fact that he was directly noticed by a god may show how truly talented he is. “Thank you to you, whichever god you are. But trust me, I’ll be able to get pass this trial like all the rest.” He spoke out loud as if the holy being could hear him from up above despite all the possibilities of other people praying to them.

But funny enough, they did hear his voice. In fact, they heard him clearly.

A goddess was holding a crystal ball with her delicate fingers and a warm smile was appearing on her face. A random flower popped out of her hair and she began giggling to herself. “Cocky, yes. But he deserves to be. He never lost a trial yet.” She quickly tapped on the ball before the face of the hero disappeared. “But he should know that each trial gets harder each time…” She placed the ball down before she took a glimpse around her room. Flower were everywhere, and some plants were growing on the walls- even a couple of rabbits went out of their hiding place once she began to look at them.

The moment she exited the room, she heard a loud gasp from a being outside. “Goddess of Nature, you finally went out the room! I thought that the God of Death may have captured you!” The being had hearts shaped pupils, and he even had a necklace with a heart locket around his neck. He was created by the Goddess of Love to be her assistant, and it was obvious by how he looked.

“You’re exaggerating. I was only there for hours.” She took a step near the matchmaker before ruffling his hair. “If I were captured by the God of Death, I’d try and choke him with thorns.”

“That’s our goddess! Beautiful and brave.” He giggled before wrapping his arms around the superior being. “But I do believe you would have to avoid contact with that hideous being. I heard he can bring people to his side.”

“I know, Dai.” She allowed the male to cling to her but she tried to reassure him. “But you don’t need to fear, I’m not planning to meet him any time soon. I also think that he won’t suddenly appear out of nowhere.”

He quickly released her before sighing dreamily. “You really know how to calm a servant like me when I’m worried, dear goddess.” A quick smirk was now on his face. “But I wonder when you’d have a child. Whether they be a god or demigod, I’d spoil them endlessly!”

A blush came across the face of the woman before she shook her head. “I’m… not interested in anyone at the moment, Dai.”

“Wrong. I sense something burning in you. It’s definitely love. I was created to make couples get together but I can’t ever pinpoint on who it is… Since your love never burns up when you’re with the other gods, it just happens when you hold your-” Dai paused before pointing at her. “-crystal ball…”

“Hm? What’s with that reaction?”

“Oh my Goddess of Nature…” His eyes widened. “Are you in love with a human?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s totally a human! That stupid God of Sight told me something before! You only could watch your followers with that ball!” He zoomed in closer before holding both her shoulders. “Are you perhaps using such a heavenly item to watch a human, the love of your life?”

Bingo.

“Of course not!” She protested. “I wouldn’t use it for that. I have to see how my followers are doing. I choose to give them some blessings and request other gods to do so if I believe they deserved it. One out of many would be that human named Lyron Maes.”

“You’re in love with hero Lyron?”

“I told, I’m not in love with a human!”

“Then who do you love?!”

“No one!”

“Liar!” He shook her body. “You totally do! My senses never lie! Ask the Goddess of Love herself! Don’t make me bring in the God of Truth-”

“Fine.”

“Admitting it?”

“Maybe I do.” She finally gave up and this caused the male to light up. “But I wouldn’t tell you.”

A frown came on the face of Dai before he dropped the formalities. “Masae! You can’t just NOT tell me once I know you do love someone! that’s like… me failing my only reason of living! I have to know!”

The goddess sighed before fiddling with her hair with her fingers. Dai was right. His sole purpose was to know about love, and making people together. He wasn’t so used to being rejected unless the humans he had to deal with were to stubborn to tell him who they loved- and this caused the romance to never happen. She didn’t want another report of him failing to the Goddess of Love to happen again.

“If I do say it, you have to keep it to yourself… and the Goddess of Love and to your magical creature friend, Rin.”

“Absolutely! I’ll inform them ahead to not share it! Romances of gods and goddess are much more private than humans, after all.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I swear, Masae. I’ll not tell anyone but them.”

“It’s… that new hero.”

“Please be more specific… I know several heroes from the north, east, west and south…”

“The hero who saved the creatures I created…” She made her voice much softer before she finally admitted the truth. “Kuga Terunori.”

[simik-actually]

So the Castle Falls - pt 1.

An arrow shot through the air, followed by the snap of a bowstring and hit the straw dummy target with enough force to rock it backwards. 

“Woah! I forgot exactly how great you are. That was all whoosh and swish and twish with that stringy thing and then it thunked into the circle so fast!” Tan said, waving his hands in wide circles and frantic gestures, flailing the wide sleeves of his white tunic around. He kicked his feet and hissed when their backs hit the stone half-wall he was sitting on, separating the training grounds from the walkway.

Kai threw a quick glance back at him as she grabbed another arrow from the brown leather stash on her hip and pulled the bowstring with quick precision. 

“Also, how do you hit the center every time? It’s so tiny!” he continued and leaned against one of the stone pillars standing in the half-wall, supporting the ceiling above the walkway.

“Not every time. That one was off.” she murmured, her right hand steadily pulling the arrow as far as it could go. The iron head rested against the right side of the simple bow and the only decoration, a blue tassel dangled from its top. 

“What?” he stilled and glanced at the target dummy with arrows sticking from the smallest black circle in the middle of its torso. “It’s in the center, that black mark, the center of the target?” he drew out, squinting.

“It’s off. I need to get the very center of the center.” Kai said. Letting out a breath, she let go of the arrow. It swished through the air and hit the target, almost in the center of the black circle. She huffed and pushed the short black hair out of her face, deciding to retie the lather strap holding them together. 

“There! It’s there!” he shouted and jumped off the wall. “Can we go now?”

“I’m surprised you could even see that through the bowl of hair on your head. Go cut it. The library dust is making it look more grey again. Like the shriveled old care-taker in the orphanage.” She turned back towards the targets. “And not quite. Go ahead if you want to. I’ll stay just a little longer,” she said, another arrow already drawn.

“Why?” He moaned and dramatically slumped back onto the half-wall, throwing his arms out. “I’ve been out for too long you know?” He glared at the clouds slowly making their way over to the forest behind the targets and allowing the sun to peak over the left wing of the castle. Even the wind was mostly blocked out as the castle enclosed three sides of the training grounds and forest the fourth. “The sun is burning me down. If we stay here for any longer I’m gonna turn into ash and it’ll be your fault.” 

She hummed, let go of another arrow and hit the center, pulled three arrows from the stash at the same time and drew them one after each other, holding the remaining ones pointed to the ground while shooting. The dummy didn’t even have enough time to rock back and forth between the hits. There was almost no space near the center of the target left.

“There. Are we done now?” he pointed to the target with eyebrows raised high up.

“No-” she started but was cut off by a sound of heavy leather boots thudding against stone, coming towards them from the left castle wing.

“Ah, look who the winds dragged in to ruin my day.” the person called as he walked towards the training grounds. “Tan, how rare it is to see you without your nose stuck in a book of childrens’ fairytales.” He leaned against the castle wall, crossed his arms in front of his perfectly white shirt with the perfectly tied string on perfectly fitting neck-line. He was pale enough to deny the existence of the sun and held his head tipped back slightly, looking down on everyone all the time, with enough confidence to claim the sun indeed is a lie.

“It’s called history and mythology,” Tan grumbled and stuck his hands in the pockets of his black pants.

“And I see you’re still wasting away your future, training to become military fodder. How original.” Oscar sneered, his sight narrowing onto the targets.

“Wait,” she turned around to face the pathway, holding out her hand. “Did no one ever explain to you the difference between the military corps and the elite squads? You know how one is in regiments and does formations, with the cavalry and the infantry and all those words you probably never heard, and the other are independent specialized squads? I’m so sorry you got such incompetent teachers,” she shook her head, on the verge of tutting at him.

“As if,” Oscar said with a clipped voice. “Those require you to have skills, you know. I’m just saying- it’s such a waste. The advisors love you already,” he sneered. “I’d just choose the highest administration position I could if I was you. There you might be able to actually change something.”

“Good that you’re not me then.” she shrugged before her eyes widened. “Hold your horses, are you still seriously hoping to get the throne?”

“Ideally, yes.” he said with a straight face.

“No,” she stared at him for a moment before bursting out into laughter. “Well, they’ll announce the heir tomorrow so better listen up. Such a shame if you were to miss out!” she said through the wheezing.

“You’ll eat your words, just wait. No one has studied this kingdom more than me. Name a thing related to it, or the administration and I can give you a full lecture on it. Working for the highest advisor makes you learn a lot, which you’d know if you tried. There is no one better to take the place.” Oscar said, head raised even higher somehow.

“Sure. Good for you. I’d rather not spend my life stuck behind stone walls, never actually seeing the kingdom, with the only goal being raising the next generation of loyal orphan-followers of the Crown,” she scoffed. “The Kingdom will support you - more like turn you into brainwashed sheep. No wonder none of you around here can appreciate freedom. Honestly, have you ever looked around? All of this,” she waved her hands around and scrunched her nose in disdain, “glimmering shit.  I don’t want it. I will travel the world, see all there is and actually do something helpful.”

“Well, one less dumbass around the castle to worry about then.” Oscar stalked off towards the right wing of the castle without a glance back. “Also, the Head Gardener said your herbs are drier than your humour. You should probably go, do something about one of those at least, though the poor plants might be beyond salvation.” he called behind his shoulder before disappearing into the castle.

“Kai, don’t aim there, you’ll actually get him and then you’ll go to court as if he was a decent enough person to keep his head attached to his shoulders,” Tan said, turning around towards the targets.

“Not even a scratch? He was in the fields, his fault for getting in the way of a stray arrow,” she said, glaring at the door but lowering the bow.

“No,” Tan shook his head in resolution, folding his arms in front of him.

She sighed. “Just one more month,” thunk. “And then I leave,” thunk. “Join the special ops squad,” thunk. “And the stupid castle,” thunk. “With the stupid chandeliers,” thunk. “And the stupid silky robes,” thunk. “And the stupid embroided curtains,” thunk. “Will be out of my life.”

“We should probably go. It’s time to take a break.” he said, stood up from the wall, walked towards her and put his hand over hers, reaching back into the stash.

“Fine,” she grumbled and walked to the targets. Just as she was taking the arrows down from the target a call from the walkway echoed through the training grounds.

“Oi, kid!”

They both startled and immediately turned to the walkway, saluting with their left hand behind the small of their back and right hand in fist over their hearts. 

“Yessir!” Kai called back, recognizing her archery instructor.

“If you don’t actually put away your stuff today I’m making the squirt do it and won’t let you have it tomorrow!” he called, narrowing his sight at her and pointing to Tan.

“Yessir!” she called back with a firm nod, trying to look convincing. She stood in the salute as the instructor scoffed and walked away, his long silver hair flailing behind him in various braids and with feathers and blue strings tied in.

“The old geezer can be so dramatic,” she whispered as he closed the door behind him. After a few seconds, just to be sure, she dumped the stash and the bow behind the target. “I’ll come and get them later.” She nodded to herself before turning away.

“Kai, please no, I don’t want to be cleaning them” Tan droned out, dragging himself after her.

“Stop complaining, you won’t. Also, I’d be good if we manage dinner early so I have time to go bring my plants back from the dead,” she said, nodding to herself on the way towards the castle.

_________

Well, there was nothing to resurrect it turned out when Kai ran into a group of younger kids from the orphanage and their care-taker using her pots as the example of how not to do it. Future workforce for the castle, raised just to be loyal to the Crown. In her bitterness she skimmed over her own plant section and didn’t recognize it for a moment, until she realized the brown sticks used to be plants. Also coming closer she discovered the mess below the sticks were actually very crispy leaves. 

She glanced at the group surrounding the plants and tried to create an indignant look on her face as she accidentally made eye-contact with the care-taker. Somehow, that turned into a silent conversation.

Look at that disgrace.

I know, right?!

She shook her head as she swerved away through the rows of large wooden pots filled with all sorts of plants, towards a random patch that definitely didn’t look crispy and pretended to take diligent care of them. Once the group left the greenhouse she returned to her used-to-be herbs. There was nothing salvageable on those and she wished necromancy would be a thing. No such luck and so she set off to start all over again with new saplings. The wrath of the Head Gardener would be a problem for another day. There was also a chance her herbalism instructor would flunk her out at this point. Well, fifth time the charm… said no one ever, but they should.

At least she had enough practice in planting saplings so it didn’t take too long before she was back in the corridors of the castle making her way through crowds of maids and butlers and cooks and teachers in dark blue tunics and black pants. The chatter echoed through the long corridors and bounced from the stone walls. The castle and orphanage were overstaffed, she concluded as another uniform ran into her, this time the tunic white, and the face of the person hidden behind a book. With a quick ‘excuse me’ the person disappeared behind a corner sooner than she could have said anything. This many people in very flammable clothing surely must be a fire hazard with the torches flickering on the walls. She shook her head and narrowly missed running into a guard.

The insistent gushing about the Queen and the Throne seemed to follow her through the castle, anywhere with enough younger students. Nothing the administration would do could make the kids question them,  proof of how well the system was designed. It worked a little too well for comfort sometimes. 

After almost getting lost in the corridors of the castle, she reached the end of one of them with wooden doors decorated slightly more than usual. She opened them and slipped into the smaller library - one of many, and ran her fingers over the backs of the books on the shelf to her left. The chances of anyone looking for her here were quite slim. More like non-existent, really. After a while of wandering through the shelves and avoiding the occasional dust cloud, she settled on some materials loosely related to her medicine lessons from the past week, in case the teacher actually managed to sniff her out and come to lecture her about studying. 

She found a table near one of the large windows, hoping to use the few last minutes of sunlight of the day in addition to the light of candle lamps. Except after only a few minutes of pretend studying the door opened with a bang loud enough to bring her dead plants back to life. She bit her tongue to hold off the swear just in case it really was one of her teachers. A glance towards the door confirmed that it was not and she let out the curse with satisfaction. The person rolled their eyes and upon closer inspection she noticed them wearing embroidered white shirt and white pants, the telltale sign of the Queen’s personal attendants.

“I apologize for the disruption, however Her Majesty the Queen is asking for you, miss, and because I couldn’t find you we’re very late now,” they said in a clipped voice, the annoyance radiating from the slouched stance and deadpan face.

…………………….

Their high position was the only thing keeping Kai from complaining as she stood up, but she took her sweet time putting away the book and dragging herself to the door, casting her spot one last remorseful look. The attendant shut the door behind them and scurried down the corridor with tiny fast steps. She followed a few paces behind, only then realizing the Queen herself was asking to see her right that moment. The stupid ranking system meant that she was quite high in position herself, however she was not this important by any means. The walk to the throne room was long enough for her to also realize that she didn’t want to be. The chattering was lowered every time they came close enough and the people in front of them parted to make way after a single look. Generally an envious, dirty type of look, and some condescending ones from the guards as well to top it off. 

    The closer to the center of the castle they walked the more decorated the halls got. After leaving the parts dedicated to staff the torches turned into elaborate chandeliers with at least one dozen of candles on each of them, if not two. The thuds of boots against the floor dulled and turned into a shuffle as stone got covered by black carpets. Kai almost tripped one of the dark blue curtains, made from heavy fabric with elaborate silver embroidery, bunching up on the floor underneath a window. Once they reached the very central part of the castle, instead of simple stone, there was white marble everywhere. Even the clacks of boots against the floor sounded more expensive.

They reached a long open space at which end were massive white doors leading to the throne room, surrounded by a ridiculous number of guards in chainmail armour and helmets covering their faces. More ridiculous than usual, she noted with unease settling in the pit of her stomach. The attendant pushed the door open and motioned towards them with a tilt of their head, but didn’t follow when Kai stepped forward. Apparently she made them lose the last bits of patience they had as they pushed her into the room and shut the door behind her.

“Your Majesty,” she said with some hesitation, took a few steps forward and saluted with her left hand behind her lower back and her right hand in fist over her heart.

The white room, from the floor to the walls and the ceiling combined with the massive blinding chandeliers made the Queen’s black gown look even darker. 

“At ease,” the Queen responded with a wave of her hand after a beat of silence.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Kai said, resting both her arms behind her back. “And lateness,” she added after a bit of hesitation.

“No need for such formalities. Come forth,” the Queen said, sitting unmoving in the throne on a pedestal, creating an unnerving atmosphere. The two chairs to her sides with deep blue lining were empty and suddenly looked very humble in comparison to the massive decorated back piece of the throne

Kai walked towards the throne, at first hesitant to step on the dark blue carpet spanning from the door all the way to the steps of the pedestal. She looked around as she passed the seatings and balconies in the walls, lining the walls. She couldn't remember the throne room ever being this empty. 

Just as she was about to kneel down in front of the steps to the throne, the Queen stood up and held her long black gown as she walked down the steps. The silver embroidery glimmered in the light of the candles as she moved. The thin veil, held on her shoulders with silver clips, dragged down the steps. Her hair was braided into an elaborate pattern, decorated with a smaller tiara. She rounded the throne and walked towards the back of the room, giving only a slight nod as a signal to follow.

Behind the throne were still quite large doors with four guards in black leather armour with iron clips connecting its pieces together, standing on the sides. The Queen’s shadows, her personal guards. She stood a few paces away from the doors and gave another nod, this time towards the guards. They stepped towards the door, each pulling a key on a necklace from below their armour and inserting them into the locks on the door, turning them at the same time.

They pushed the doors open with soft criecks and waited for the Queen with Kai to walk in before closing it behind them. The room was lit only by the moonlight from a large window on the opposite wall. Both sides of the room were lined with shelves stacked with books from the floor to the ceiling. Below the window was a large stone pedestal with purple crystals around its bottom edge. She firstly thought it was just a reflection but then realized there were shining specs swirling inside the crystals. The whole pedestal was overgrown by a plant with thick green stems climbing over it, large pointy leaves and yellow flowers with petals in multiple rows. On the top of the pedestal was a large book with nothing on the cover and tattered pages. Frankly, it has seen better days in its life. 

“What is this?” Kai breathed out, taking the room in, before realizing it and stammered to excuse her improper language. In the corner of her left side she saw a table with stacks of papers and ink flasks.

“We’re in the heart of the castle, the spot it was built around,” the Queen said, interrupting her. She gestured towards the shelves, “In here you’ll find anything you could ever want to know, from the histories of the world thousands of years back, to maps and texts from other countries, to writings of the previous rulers of the kingdom,” she spoke softly as she walked towards the pedestal, running her fingers over the book.

“Thousands of years? Other countries? Pardon my rudeness, but that’s not-” Kai stammered, as good as rooted to the spot.

“There is much you’ll never learn outside of this room. Anything you do find here cannot be spoken of outside under no circumstances,” the Queen spun around, clasping her hands in front of her. “Do you understand that?” she asked with a low quiet voice, making it seem more like a statement. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Kai asked more somber with every moment as she grasped the weight of the situation. Nothing good was to come of this, she realized, albeit a little late. 

The Queen was silent for a few beats, running her sight over Kai before speaking, “Because you’ve been chosen the heir to the throne.”

“I- The throne?” Kai squeaked and promptly coughed into her hand in a futile attempt to cover it. “I meant, surely there must be people more prepared for such a role,” she stood a little stiffer at the cold sweat running down her back. 

“The advisors and I have decided and chosen you,” The Queen said, her face giving of nothing. 

“There must have been a mistake then.” Kai blurted out, and hurried to correct herself as the Queen raised an eyebrow in a silent question. “What I wanted to say is I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for and there’s perhaps been an unfortunate misspell of names or something similar,” she said, her hands sweating more every second. It was getting harder to not take a step back and try to open the door. The probably last reasonable inside voice she had was telling her it would be a very bad idea.

“There is no need to worry about any such accidents. I hope you can imagine we were very diligent when making these decisions,” the Queen said, hints of amusement appearing in her face as her eyes crinkled and the corner of her lips ticked. It was gone in a matter of seconds though. “I stand by my words.” 

“There’s no- Why-” she let out with a breath, her eyes widening.

The Queen hummed and turned her head slightly, thinking about possibly the single answer she didn’t have prepared. “Interesting of you to ask that. I believe you’ll find out with time,” she looked back, satisfied with her response.

“With my utmost respect, Your Majesty, that makes no sense. All of this,” she gestured around the room. “That has nothing to do with me and frankly I’m still not sure I believe it all. I’m certain the kingdom will be better off with someone else.”

“It will all make sense in due time,” the Queen waved her hand, dismissing the concern. “I can assure you there’s a lot we need to go through and you’re going to need all the time you can get, so we should get started. There is so much you don’t know about,” she clasped her hands, signaling the end of the conversation.

“It’s a great honour, Your Majesty, but I don’t think I-” Kai said, determined to stop whatever was happening before it got any further.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea here. I’m not asking. You were chosen to become the next ruler, there is no discussion to be held,” the Queen cut her off, any semblance of niceties disappearing in that instance.

“I don’t want to though. I don’t think I’m suitable for the position,” Kai said, hoping bluntness would serve her better than reasoning.

“Frankly, no one cares about what you want right now,” the Queen said, proving that it in fact wouldn’t. “It was decided and we’re not going to wait for your acceptance. This is a duty to the kingdom, not a gift. You were chosen to carry that burden and you are going to do so. The throne comes with many powers and responsibilities and the only ones allowed to have it are ones who don’t want it. In fact, you have proven yourself quite well so far, so I’d prefer we get to it,” she continued as she searched through the shelves.

“I don’t-” Kai raised her hands in protest.

The door burst open, barely avoiding her and she jumped away to the side. Into the room walked Oscar, holding a sword. He stopped a few steps in and gazed around. His eyes widened when they landed on Kai and his breath caught for a moment before he turned his head back to the Queen. Behind him stood one of the Head Advisors with red specks on his once white tunic. 

A group of around a dozen guards in full armour stood off to his side and one of the four Shadows was slumped against the wall a little further away with another one crouching by him. 

“Advisor what is this?” The Queen said, keeping her voice even, her sight locked on the Advisor.

“You’re surrounded,” Oscar proclaimed with a triumphant smile. “The kingdom has suffered your rein long enough. The abused and neglected citizens deserve better. We are taking back what rightfully belongs to us. From here on the castle shall be under my rule. I order you to give up the crown. No resistance will be of merit.” He grinned looking as if he expected a pat on the back. 

The Advisor was tapping his foot and narrowing his sight as Oscar droned on. The red puddle around the slumped guard was getting bigger with every word.

“I’ll only ask once more, explain yourself, Advisor.” The Queen said, the air in the room somehow turning icy.

“You should have listened to me!” Oscar shrieked. “Guards, arrest her for defiling the crown,” he pointed his sword at the queen.

A shout came from the throne room and the back rows of the armoured guards had drawn their swords and joined the fight in a split second. The sounds of iron against iron echoed through the throne room. The Queen grasped Kai’s hand and pulled her behind as she outstretched her hand in front of both of them, towards Oscar. He and the Advisor were thrown back into the group of guards toppling over the front row. 

Kai pulled from the Queen’s grip, stumbling out of the room into the throne room. She froze when she saw three of the Shadows and a handful of regular guards trying to hold off the Advisor’s group. Then her sight fell on the guard slumped against the wall and her breath got caught in her throat. There was too much red all around the white floor. 

Oscar untangled himself from the guards and ran towards the Queen, pointing his sword. One of the Queen’s Shadows separated from the fight in the back, leaving three of the Advisor’s guards sprawled on the floor. It wasn’t fast enough to reach the front on time.

The Queen sent a panicked look towards the Shadow. She mouthed something and the door shut in front of her. The next moment Oscar ran into it, barely catching himself from barging onto the sword.

“Run!” The Shadow grabbed Kai’s hand and pulled her away, towards the exit, as the rest of the room froze, staring at the door.

The sword got caught in blue crystals forming rapidly from the bottom of the door through the crack all to the top, around the edges and over the sword. Oscar jumped away just as the crystal covered the handle.

Kai cast a glance at the blue crystal covering the wall where the door used to be as she was pulled out of the throne room by the guard. They ran through the large hall and her feet caught on the edge of the carpet. The guard pulled her forward as she tried to fix her footing and get used to the tempo. 

The castle became a blur of light and black and blue as Kai dashed down a flight of stairs, around a corner and barely avoided a server with a stack of plates. The guard kept pulling her through the usually less frequented corridors, most of which were completely empty this time of the night.

They made a few more turns and reached the familiar stone floors and torches before the sound of stumping caught up with them. Kai heard the guard scoff. They stopped when Kai caught a glimpse of someone behind them as they rounded another corner.

The guard turned to where the stumps were coming from and threw Kai in the opposite direction. “Go! My job is to keep them back. We’ll find you.” She said, shoving Kai away to make her move.  

The guard stepped into the middle of the hallway, grasped her sword in front of her and faced where the followers would soon appear.

“I said go!” she screamed, glancing back at Kai. “The hall is narrow enough, they’ll have to come one by one. We’ll find you later, just go and hide well somewhere!”

Kai stumbled backwards when she saw the guards coming and set off down the hall, glancing back just as the swords hit the first time. After rounding the next corner she reached a corridor ending with a wooden door leading to the walkway by the training grounds. She stumbled through and ran down the walkway. Once she reached the archery training grounds she jumped over the small wall separating the yard from the corridor. She froze when she spotted someone behind one of the targets. The person shot up from their crouched stance and glanced at her.

“Kai? Oh, thank the damned spirits it’s you. Why is your instructor forcing me to clean up after your practice again?! Come on!” Tan grumbled as he returned to picking up the bow and arrow stash from the ground.

She ran towards him and grabbed both from his hands, tossing the bow and stash over to hang down her shoulder.

“We need to go, now!” she grasped his sleeve and pulled him towards the forest, glancing briefly at the door she threw open.

“Go? What?” Tan stumbled before standing firmly in his spot. “You look like you saw the old Kings themselves rise, take a breath so you can actually tell me what is this,” he shook his head and looked her over grimacing at the crumpled clothes and messy hair.

“No time,” she said between heavy breaths, pulling on his sleeve. “All of this is a lie. There is more. Countries, borders, history! So much! We need to leave now!” she was starting to get more frantic with every second they stood out in the open.  

Tan tried to pry his sleeve from her hand. “Okay, this is a very weird joke and not really funny I have to say,” he grumbled, taking a step back towards the targets.

“Not a joke, the Queen’s gone! The castle will soon fall!” She threw out her hands in exasperation. “An Advisor betrayed the kingdom! We need to leave now!” she reached for his sleeve again.

“Are you-” Tan froze.

“Stop her! Stop the deserter!” A shout from the castle echoed. “She killed the Queen! Stop her no matter what it takes!” more followed and soon echoes of stomps could be heard too, louder by the second.

“Wha-” Tan turned to her with wide eyes pulling away as fast as he could.

“I didn’t. That wasn’t me,” she started back at him equally shocked. “Please you’ve got to believe me. We need to go.” she pleaded glancing between the door, forest, Tan and back at the door.

He cast a quick glance behind him, turned to her and pushed her down into the forest with as much force as he could muster. She fell to the ground, into bushes, behind the targets.

“Run!” he forced out between his teeth before turning to the door just in time as guards came running towards the small wall.

“To the left!” He called gesturing towards the left wing of the castle. “She ran inside, to the main gate!” He cried even louder, pointing opposite from the forests.

“Someone has to stay here.” he whispered through clenched teeth as he kept flailing his arm towards the castle. “Now go before they come here!”

She scrambled from the ground, praising the night like never before and ran into the forest, crouched down, stumbling down the hill, over bushes and branches, catching on trees to not fall completely. She lost sight of the castle soon enough and only straightened up a while after that, keeping the pace as fast as she could. She could barely see through the dark anyway, so the tears in her eyes made no difference.

[sanoiro]

Sinnerman: A not so Mini meta post anymore...

Due to my time restrictions but my desire to write this I decided that a quick meta post was in order before the weekend and certainly before 3x02. Yet be warned that this might turn a bit longer that I expect to myself...  We have several clues on who Sinnerman might be and the good thing is that we can think outside the box with Lucifer the show. This is not Supernatural and so we have a mythos to rely on which comes from 150(!) comic-book/graphic novels! 

So let’s begin with the clues from the interviews: 

What makes the Sinnerman a different kind of antagonist than ones we’ve seen before?

Modrovich: He’s a badass. But what you also find is that he does have a hidden history with some characters in our show that come out and Lucifer has to face off against.

Henderson: We look at him like a bizarre reflection of Lucifer. We learn in an upcoming episode that he also gives out favors, but his are a little bit more nefarious. When this guy gives out favors, you’re really dreading the payment that you’ll have to give. So it’s sort of the Devil facing a dark reflection of himself.

What can you say about the Sinnerman’s intentions in kidnapping Lucifer?

Henderson: The Sinnerman’s the kind of person who knows that putting angel wings on the Devil will only drive him deeper in the other direction. So Lucifer, whether he likes it or not, is being manipulated.

Modrovich: And that Sinnerman has a motivation in taking Lucifer into the desert that’s other than the wings. He has this specific motivation that we will reveal to you throughout the entire season. He has a personal reason.

“Our friend Lieutenant Pierce suggests to Lucifer that he knows about the Sinnerman and they start to collaborate together in this tangled web that we weave in Season 3,” Ellis reveals to TV Guide.

HENDERSON: Yeah, and at the end of the first episode, we get this first clue as to who this person might be, and realizing it might be a darker force than he’s encountered previously.

To Summarise the above Sinnerman: 

1) Has hidden history with some characters in our show - Meaning more than one. Pierce for sure but also Lucifer apparently. 

2) We look at him like a bizarre (dark) reflection of Lucifer - Is that even possible to be darker than Lucifer himself I will say yes because I have a few theories on that but you will have to scroll further down for them.  3) He gives out nefarious favours with high stake payments - This alone gives us a hint on what or who we are looking for.  4) Sinnerman knew how to give Lucifer his wings and that it would cause Lucifer to act in a certain way - Meaning not only he has the knowledge of how to handle and manipulate divinity but also knows Lucifer... Really knows Lucifer...

5) Sinnerman gave Lucifer his wings for a certain reason which Henderson might have revealed above. He has a personal reason to do that... - This info again limits the suspects quite a lot but never ever forget that this is not a show based on the angels we know but its foundations are in a mythos woven by Sandman and Lucifer the comics...  6) Finally, Marcus Pierce will have to admit that he knows about Sinnerman which will lead to a weird partnership with different agendas between Lucifer and Marcus. 

7) It is given by Henderson as a darker force Lucifer has ever faced before...

What we know from the show and most importantly 3x01: 

(At this point of the post I realised it was never meant to be a small one *sigh*)

He was just a routine gig.I was gonna swap him for you, but when I went to pull you out of the van, you you had friggin' wings, man!

What we know from the kidnapper is that he just had to get him out of the van not that he actually kidnapped him! So that means that we may have a three-act play. 

Lucifer when he is contemplating how he was kidnapped he says “...-how were they able to render me unconscious? Either they used some kind of celestial weapon, or the detective was nearby.” He never thinks that there might have been a celestial being but we saw the weapon they used so we should at this point leave out Chloe’s presence near the hospital out of the picture and focus on that the kidnapper might have indeed used something of celestial origin... As we know from the piece celestial toys were left on earth along with a Summerian (Assyrian really...) manual...  The second is how did he get his wings? Well, here we have again Lucifer’s reasoning to play with although I don’t agree with that much it gives me again hint: “Did my Father give you some kind of totem? A talisman? - What?”

At this point, the writers through Lucifer give us another good hint and it is closely connected to the next quote but seriously think about it... In Lucifer’s reasoning, an object can hold mystical powers enough to give him back his wings. In not so many words, magic is getting into the Lucifer (Tv Show) mythology finally... Divine power is one thing but infused and transportable as magic can be a complicated notion to conceive and handle yet... 

And I don't know your dad. Unless, is your, is your dad the Sinnerman?

I was rewatching that scene but I wonder if the guy had made the connection with Lucifer’s insistence that some kind of dark magic for the lack of better word was in the mix. Funny... because why would a man who knew Sinnerman assume so easily that a feathered Lucifer could be the son of Sinnerman if Sinnerman did not hold a certain unearthly charisma himself? Of course that’s just speculation. 

Finally, in 3x01 even Lucifer acknowledges that: 

At first, I thought it was a an emissary on Earth working on Dad's behalf, but then, the more I think about it, the more I think maybe this isn't our Father who art in Heaven at all. But something much, much darker.

The above is actually a pretty good connection link to the comics... But anyway  Lucifer says this is something much, much darker and Amenadiel’s expression was giving away something the first time I watched the episode but I cannot be sure. Still, Amenadiel’s not so obvious reaction had me thinking that as the firstborn in the show he preceded Lucifer and knew quite a few things from an era before the light aka Lucifer was born... Although we do know that Mum had the same power aka to illuminate the universe... 

A clue from Twitter yesterday from Ildy had me thinking again of the usual suspects but you have to be aware of something. I can only speculate on comic characters or characters that may be based on the comics. Certain elements from the show appear on and off in the tv series like the “space vagina” That was actually taken from the first issues of Lucifer and is shown near the end as well. 

So Ildy says that something might have indeed escaped Hell... Hmmm... What we can also speculate is that as Marcus is hunting down Sinnerman, this season’s bad guy only recently found his way to L.A. but the second season would have been enough for him to grow out of favours and establish a mob persona strong enough to get to L.A. and target Lucifer when Mum was gone... We might even suspect that Mum was but a diversion for Lucifer, Sinnerman created for him to make sure he was safe before he started plotting.... Of course, we cannot speculate everything. I’m sure that the writers have come up with some crazy and absurd details I cannot speculate about but that’s the thing, I can get to the comics and try to see who the usual suspects might be...  Right now I have two comic book, inspired perhaps than transferred from the comic book universe to the show, characters that might be Sinnerman. And then a third speculation...  The first but not the best candidate for Sinnerman’s real identity is Dumas. I’ll just copy paste his info here: 

Duma is a fallen angel from the DC Vertigo series The Sandman. Before The Sandman

Duma's name means "silence", and he is based on the angel Duma from Jewish mythology. In those tales, he is the angel of silence and death's stillness. According to these same stories, he is the guardian of Egypt and the prince of vindication. Based on this, one could speculate that he was the angel who killed the firstborn Egyptians in Moses' time. Some sources also name him a "Prince of Hell".

The Zohar, a book of Jewish mysticism, describes his position in Hell as such that he had "tens of thousands of angels of destruction" under him, and that he was "chief of demons in Gehinnon with 12,000 myriads of attendants, all charged with the punishment of the souls of sinners."

Dumah is also the name given to the guardian of the 14th gate, through which the goddess Ishtar passed on her journey to the underworld in Babylonian mythology. Dumah may or may not be related to Duma.

In The Sandman

In Season of Mists, we find that Lucifer has closed down Hell in frustration, and given the key to Dream. Eventually, after much squabbling between various gods, Duma and Remiel are assigned to assume control of Hell, and Duma accepts this.

After The Sandman

Following the end of The Sandman series, Remiel and Duma lose ownership of Hell in the Lucifer spin-off series. Duma eventually allies with Lucifer and Elaine Belloc to save creation, and persuades Hell's new ruler Christopher Rudd to bring his army to Heaven's aid at the Battle of Armageddon.

The second and the one I’m rooting more than Duma is The Silk Man...

Appearing for the first time in Lucifer: Nirvana, The Silk Man is an immortal sorcerer, described by Lucifer as

"..a fossil remnant from an earlier, cruder creation. His body is a weaving that has to be renewed constantly. His spirit too, come to that. A messy form of immortality, but it seems to do the job." In earlier days he was the leader of the Arao Jinn. He appears as a mercenary, hired by the angel Perdissa to kill Lucifer. He seems to need to consume living things to stay alive, weaving them into himself. He is severely damaged by Perdissa and eventually killed by Lucifer.

The Silk Man seems to be closely connected to my third speculation and as such it might be a merge of the two... In the comics, God admits that he was created by an external force and we do know that darker things lying around the cosmos and outside The Creation... Darker, twisted and defeated by Dad... Still, where would all these defeated “things” go? In Hell I suppose... 

Following a mythology of Zeus and how he enprisoned the Titans under the Earth, we can say that this is a popular mythos to follow with one crucial flow. What precedes you have the knowledge of how to overpower you in time... Amenadiel might have been around at that point and might had to help Him to get rid some of them Sinnerman included.....  Now The Silk Man was killed by Perdissa... But I suspect that Lucifer’s light bringing power which freed Mum might come back for that task... If you need more info about that just read Lucifer: Nirvana. Lucifer Issue 75 also has a good interaction of our hero with The Sillk Man as well though....

Anyway to finish this post... I do not believe that Sinnerman is a mere human but at the same time I cannot believe he is a celestial being at least not in the sense we have known them to be in the tv series so far. So perhaps an external force whch we know they exist from the comics? Perhaps... Let’s not forget that the Sinnerman as a casting role is new so I doubt we will see for example Malcolm back or anything of that nature in our screens soon but to the ones who want to learn more about the external forces I’ll just leave you with Carey’s two answers on that matter on Twitter...

The Dream of a Thousand Cats is a darkish one... The allegory in that story where cats once ruled over people only for the past to change goes beyond your usual comic book standards (even for Sandman in my opinion) and the fourth wall sometimes shutters but it is what it is.... 

As the episodes come rolling I’ll probably change my conviction over who Sinnerman is but until then this post will have to do... I apologise for its length :P 

[dahniwitchoflight]

Zodiac - “Circle of Animals”

Recently I’ve been thinking about zodiac signs because the meaning of Zodiac always bugged me because the signs it represents doesn’t match what it means

Zodiac means “Circle of Animals” representing the animal constellations along the circle of the equator in the sky at night

But in western Astrology, our modern constellations are not all Animals, we have some human figures (Gemini, Virgo) as well as inanimate tools (Aquarius, Libra) as well as some mythological or chimerical creations (Saggitarius, Capricorn)

and I was wondering, if we did assign actual real life animals to those signs, what would they possibly be? and why?

So I went back to the roots of it all, Sumerian and then Babylonian star catalogues to try and find an answer, after all, the modern signs were only based off of these older signs, they have become changed in the process, usually during Greek and Roman times and then later sort of “solidified” in modern times (And then also with a sprinkling of mythological tales common in those star regions to see the association between the animal and the meaning of the modern signs)

and what I discovered was actually very interesting, a lot of the times, the actual direct lines and boundaries between constellations were very often blurred, changed, moved, warped and argued about, so that actually over time, you can find that a lot of different symbols were associated with different constellations at some point in time

but overall, I discovered themes between constellations and their neighbors, the ones they would usually share boundaries, and therefore you could share their symbols with as well

One of the more famous ones of these being Scorpio and Libra, aka back in the day they were of one constellation, called the Scorpion, the region of the sky that we know as Libra today was simply known then as “the Scorpion’s Claws” with Scorpio being the Body and the Stinger

but also the region of the sky nearest Libra was associated with various reptiles, serpens Cauda, the snake’s head and hydra the dragon (i promise this isn’t a homestuck joke astrology post lol)

as well as in certain phases of history we instead see that whole region drawn differently, or connected the stars differently as “the eagle fighting the snake” 

Now, there is a lot of snake symbolism and mythology out there that would actually suggest that Scorpio as a water sign associated with (Esp Male) sexuality and mystery and named for a “sting” would be better served by the Serpent symbol, and Libra, as an Air sign associated with ideals of justice and balance fits in pretty well with the Eagle!  but also both signs being associated with Swords as well is a neat association (Scorpion was seen as an amoured beast, and called the Sword of Heaven, associated with War and Battle, Libra is where we get our Lady Justice figure from, Scales in one hand, Sword in the other, the Eagle is a very modern symbolism of War as well) makes the idea of them being figures “battling” eachother fit in with the imagery of the Snake and the Eagle quite well as well! Not to mention the imagery in the first place comes from the fact that the Eagle and Snake are natural enemies, eagle carries away snake, snake bites eagle

So, for me, I rather much associate Scorpius constellation with a Serpent, and Libra with an Eagle (Could be other Birds of Prey specifically, but Eagle is the one actually named)

as well as Corvus the Raven and Hydra the Snake were next to eachother and near Libra as well, Aquila the eagle is near as well

next, the constellation next to these guys, Virgo!

this one was actually very interesting the turn it took me, but I quite like the animal I ended up with

to begin with, the original constellation here is called “The Furrow” meaning a tilled portion of a farmer field, and was associated with various earthy things like growth, ears of corn specifically as symbols and farming in general

the direction modern symbolism took this in was to associate “The Furrow” with earthy mother goddesses of corn because women invented farming from our earlier hunter-gather days and well, Furrow also basically meaning hole in the ground where things grow out of, hint hint, feminine sexual symbolism we’ll say

but myths also associated the area with Dogs, and their domestication! like the story of Erigone and Maera. the story goes that Erigone’s father was taught the art of making wine out of grapes by Dionysus, her father gave the wine to some travellers, but they, thinking he had been poisoned by him not knowing was intoxication was, killed him and buried him under a tree. Erigone not knowing her father’s status couldn’t find him but, but her close dog companion Maera was able to catch the scent of wine from her father and led her to find his body, where, she ended up killing herself out of grief, hanging herself on the tree and her dog killed itself out of grief for her and jumped in a well to kill itself, Dionysus was enraged by the travellers behaviour ruining the family he intended to bless and raised them all into the stars, Erigone becoming Virgo, Maera Canis and her father as Bootes.

not suprisingly Canis Minor/Canis Major are Dog Constellations that are near Virgo, but perhaps more surprisingly is that Leo, Virgo’s neighbour, in times where Leo is drawn with some of Virgo stars as a different constellation is also called The Dog

so, Virgo is a Dog! But what do Dogs have to do with Women and Farming and Virgos modern associations with being neat and orderly and in control of everything?

Well, think of what dogs were being domesticated for in that time, mostly they were sheep dogs, and much closer to in those days to domesticated repurposed wolves than our modern cute little pet pomerianians (the word for dogs in most cultures pre domestication was everything between “child snatcher” and “corpse eater” and modern dog-based insults are remnants of that)

So you have the images of an Alpha Wolf, Leader of the Pack or even “Mama Wolf” figure, transformed and trained into a loyal partner for the farmer in a delicate dance of submission, turned from dangerous stranger inhabiting our midst to a coperative cohabitor, helping them shepherd their livestock by “acting” as wolves to scare herds into their proper places, like getting all your ducks in a row, training their natural behaviour for a humanly useful and utilitarian purpose, and over time through selective breeding becoming the sort of dogs we are familiar with today

So with that in Mind, I think for the Zodiac’s symbolism purposes Virgo as either Dog or Wolf would be accurate, but Canine in general is the point

a point for wolf though is another older close to virgo sumerian constellation being Wolf also called “Seeder of the Plough”, another association between Wolves domesticated by Farmers

Next we’ll talk about Aquarius, the Water-Bearer and his associations

also an air sign despite the name and the symbol, and in modern times associated with rebellion, eccentricity but also servitude and knowledge, the “water” he pours in most mythologies surrounding the constellation is life and creation, as a god in sumeria he was Ea or Enki, he is the Giver of life and all good things, aka his “water” poured into the earth’s “furrows” was what created all of life and creation (yes, the sexual imagery was intended) but aquarians as air signs are intellectual but flighty never really holding to one thing unless their stubborn and always going against the flow and contrary for the sake of contrariness always talking and in general just flying all over the place and getting into everything

the constellation itself was literally called “the Great One” for Ea the god, but the animal associations are a bit more tenuous here, the areas in the sky he is nearest to, and in some places depictions of Ea himself with wings and birdfeet, all have birdllike qualities, the Square of Pegasus is near, as well as once again, the boundaries between Pisces and Aquarius were different and nearer the Pisces half you have this old constellations called “The Tail of the Swallow” and “The Swallow” or also “The Dove” (through Pisces being associated with a human goddess of doves at one point as well) depicting a small bird with a forked/split feather tail (and were argued about if they were one constellation or two, much like Libra/Scorpio)

So, I can probably say that like Libra, Aquarius is also a Bird, but unlike Libra’s larger more warlike birds of prey, Aquarius’s bird is something much more akin to that gentle Dove or flightly Swallow

a Dove would certainly be the stronger symbol of the two, but Swallow was the one named so *shrug* like Wolf or Dog, the most important thing is Small Prey Bird, rather than Large Predator Bird

then there’s also the fact that the common image of a Dove Carrying the Signs of Life, from Noah’s ark like an olive branch or tree leaf, is a very common strong symbol that connects it directly to Aquarius’s Carrier of the Waters of Life. aka theyre both Life Carriers

Nest Again we have Capricorn, whose usually mythology is that of the Sea-Goat

but since while this one is an animal, its a mythological animal

but surprisingly back in ye old sumerian days, Capricorn was a constellation that represented the symbols of the god Ea, representing his loyal animal servants

and in those days, Capricorn (though obs it wasnt called capricorn) was equally depicted as either the Sea Goats or the Turtle! as those were both his servants

it was just random chance I guess that Sea-Goat ended up being the more popular depiction as time went on

But the Turtle/Tortoise fits surprisingly well with Capricorn’s established imagery as an Earth sign heavily associated with Water imagery, as well as Capricorn’s nature of being hardworking stubborn, slow and steadily climbing the ladder, and much more serious looking and longevital with forward long term plans as the Turtle than as the more playful and silly shortlived Goat

and even though a turtle might be more of a water creature youd think, Capricorn, Pisces and Aquarius are all water associated because there in an area of the sky called the Great Sea where a bunch of watery signs all live, and Turtle is still very heavily an Earthy water creature, just like the Swallow or Dove is associated with the myths of the Great Flood, think Noah’s ark where its always some form of small bird that is the first to discover the receding waters and bring hope to humanity

Nest then we have Saggitarius, the Archer, this one is a lot more simple compared to the other ones, its a Horse, obviously

but the reasoning goes much deeper than that, because it turns out, Horse may have been the intended Animal Symbol from the very start!

because back in Sumerian Days, while they had domesticated Dogs, Cattle, Sheep, Oxen etc they hadn’t yet domesticated things like Horse or Camels! so the images of the Centaur, the Man Upon the Horse, was misinterpreted from them seeing other cultures riding upon these apparently wild and undomesticated animals, and mistaking them instead for creatures with a horselike body and human top part

likely they saw foreign warriors or hunters hunting on horseback with the obvious tool, arrows, and misunderstood it as a strange mythological creature associated also with bows and arrows and thusly named it Centaur, and the mythical creature just happen to stick around and be a thing even after later peoples domesticated horses

anyway the orignal sumerian symbol was indeed a Centaur, but not called a centaur, it was called Pabilsag and was actually also associated with various forms of Ea and Enki, but depicting him as half horse was only one variation of him in the saggitarius section of the sky rather than in the Aquarius side, often here he was very chimerical, taking upon various animals parts of various things, dog heads, bird wings, snake tails, horse bodies, scorpion bodies etc and was really more like a hodgepodge of various zodiac animals with Ea on top

but since no other parts of the sky was associated was anything horselike (besides like, Pegasus but only later for greek myth) 

to me it makes sense that Saggitarius’s Real Animal is simply the humble Horse

Finally we have the last non real animal sign left and that is Gemini

Gemini actually has the weakest connection to any real life animal out of all the signs, because Gemini has been pretty solidly The Great Twins since the original sumerian constellations, once they were absorbed into Orion to become “The Giant” but thats pretty much it

however!

Gemini as the Twins were also associated as the two faces/aspects/sides of Nergal, Babylonian god of the underworld, and the Panther is the sacred beast of Nergal, the Babylonian lord of the dead also known as “The (storm)demon with the wide open mouth “ often depicted as a great black panther or a panther griffin beast, think sort of their version of a cerberus creature!

so, we got another big cat in the Zodiac, but, the imagery we can take from a cool dark underworld Panther is very different then the one we get from the great roaring sunny Lion

if we start with Gemini as a Panther, we can use Gemini’s astrological meaning to further shape it

Gemini’s are fast talking, witty, charming, silver tongued, mysterious, surprisingly often hated by people because theyre misunderstood, just have a different overall way of interacting and airy personality and thoughts, but can be overactive and crazy and lovable and cute all at once

and when combine all that with “Black Panther” you get a symbolism image much more in line with how modern people think of House Cats in general, or even Black Cats if you wanna get really specific, it lends itself really well to Gemini;s meaning, and it has its base in something associated with Gemini from the beginning

so the Cat it is!

and with that we have our revised true western “Circle of Animals”

Aries - Ram

Taurus - Bull

Gemini - Cat (or Small Cat)

Cancer - Crab

Leo - Lion (or Big Cat)

Virgo -  Wolf (or Dog/Canine)

Libra - Eagle (or Large Predator Bird)

Scorpio - Serpent (or you can keep Scorpion, but I’ve fallen in love with Serpent Scorpio)

Saggitarius - Horse

Capricorn - Turtle/Tortoise

Aquarius - Swallow/Dove (or Small Prey Bird)

Pisces - Fish

[libralita]

Reread Review!

Title: Alloy of Law

Author: Brandon Sanderson

Summary: Centuries after the Mistborn trilogy, Scadrial is on the verge of modernity - railroads, electric street lights, and skyscrapers. Waxillium Ladrian can Push on metals with his Allomancy and use Feruchemy to become lighter or heavier at will. After 20 years in the dusty Roughs, in the city of Elendel, the new head of a noble house may need to keep his guns.

Rating: ★★★★★

Original Review

Review:

I guess I’m still on the Mistborn reread train. This review has spoilers for ALL of Mistborn books and Secret History so don’t read this if you aren’t caught up with the series. This was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed going back to Era 2 with all it’s new technology and the tons of new curses. I liked this book a little less because the serious lack of Steris. I guess that’s what the next two books are for.

“My friend, annotated with locations as per your instructions. ~Nazh”—City of Elendel Map

Hey, Nazh.

“Lessie, I’m three months older than you are”—Wax, Page 18

Haha, no you aren’t.

“She’d been dried in the same manner, body spiked to the wall in a very specific pose, as if she were on her knees inspecting a pile of rocks.”—Page 23

Spiked?

“I have seen Death himself, with the nails in his eyes. I have seen the Survivor, who is life.”—Tan, Page 24

I guess Marsh and Kell have been hanging out with Bloody Tan.

“‘Many men never get a chance to create true art,’ Tan said. ‘And the best performances are those which can never be reproduced. Months, years, spent preparing. Everything  place right. But at the end of the day, the rotting will begin. I couldn’t truly mummify them; I hadn’t the time or resources. I could only preserve them long enough to prepare for this one show. Tomorrow, it will be ruined. You were the only one to see it. Only you. I figure…we’re all just puppets…you see…’”—Page 24

Preserved and ruined, ay? Also this idea of being puppets and control sounds an awful like Trell.

All the small references to the original trilogy are making me sad and happy.

“He couldn’t Pull on metals, only Push—he wasn’t some mythological Mistborn from the old stories, like the Survivor or the Ascendant Warrior.”—Page 32

Brandon had to come up with some way to not make his characters too overpowered. So no more Mistborns! I doubt this will stay.

“so one learned to take what [Wayne] said with a pinch of copper.”—Page 32

Does Scadrial, or at least the Basin, not have salt?

“He was followed by a stern-looking woman with golden hair fixed into a tight bun—his daughter, Steris—”—Page 48

My wife!

“‘Well,’ Waxillium said. ‘Perhaps I should begin by asking after your health.’ ‘Perhaps you should,’ Steris replied. ‘Er. Yes. How’s your health?’ ‘Suitable.’ ‘So is Waxillium.’ Wayne added. They all turned to him. ‘You know,’ he said. ‘He’s wearing a suit, and all. Suitable.’”—Page 50

Some people just don’t appreciate a good pun.

“‘I have been working on an autobiography,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I will send you a chapter or two of it by post.’”—Page 56

I would love to read that. Also I’m sure it got a whole lot interesting after Wax entered her life.

“Aluminum and a few of its alloys were Allomantically inert; you couldn’t Push or Pull on them. It was also very expensive. It cost more than even gold and platinum.”—Page 58

Damn.

“Even though he knew the Words of Founding had given hints regarding electricity, what men had achieved still seemed incredible.”—Page 64

Words of Founding, interesting.

“Preservation’s Wings”? I think at the end of Hero of Ages when Elend saw Vin her hair looked like wings so I think that this is referring to.

“Waxillium had been converted to the Path soon after leaving Elendel. He was still convinced that the woman he’d met on the train ride must have been one of the Faceless Immortals, the hands of Harmony. She’d give him his earring; ever Pathian wore one while praying.”—Page 74

Yep, she was.

“The Yomens are powerful, even if they do believe in Sliverism. Horrid religion. Imagine, revering Ironeyes himself.”—Page 78

Ay, Marsh has his own religion and of course it’s the Yomens who believe it.

“The bride and groom arrived, and people rose to clap. Lord Joshin and Lady Mi’chelle; Waxillium didn’t know them, though he did wonder why they were speaking with a scrubby man who looked like a beggar, dress all in black.”—Page 80

I’m assuming this is Hoid.

The entire conversation about shoot dog balls is so great.

“It did take a great deal of my time, though Wayne’s paper gave me a good head start. Fortunately, my uncle’s library had extensive genealogical resources. It was a hobby of his. But what do you think?”—Wax, Page 137

Oh, really? I wonder why he had that particular hobby...

“‘You may want to turn away, Marasi.’ Waxillium said. She frowned, but didn’t look away. So he grabbed the burned layer at Wayne’s shoulder and—with a jerk—ripped the skin off his back. It came free in almost a single complete sheet.”—Pages 167-168

Oh my god this scene is so gross.

“The carriage was approaching the bridge to the Field of Rebirth; the blanket of green grass and blooming Marewill flowers rose in a gradual hillside slope. The statues of the Last Emperor and the Ascendant Warrior dominated the top, capping their tomb. There was a museum there. Marasi had been there several times as a girl to look at the relics of the World of Ash that had been saved by the Originators, those who had been nurtured in wombs of the earth and reborn to build society.”—Page 172

Interesting to see how Era 2 sees Era 1 and it’ll be even more interesting to see what Era 3 and 4 think of Era 1.

“Mister Suit’s eyes were as cold as iron.”—Page 190

Interesting wording.

“The white, puffy things that float high above the fruitful land where the seeds are planted.”—Page 201

My god.

“‘Oh, Harmony!’ she said. ‘Are you all right? Is that your blood? And should I be in here? I can go. I should probably go, shouldn’t I? Are you sure you’re all right?’”—Page 218

Haha, I love flustered Marasi.

I think Ranette is proof that reincarnation does in fact exist in the Cosmere and Vin has been reborn.

You don’t know what Hazekillers are?

“‘I call the gun Vindication,’ she said. ‘After the Ascendant Warrior.’”—Page 234

Aw.

“‘Anyone here speak High Imperial?’ Waxillium shook his head. ‘Makes my head hurt.’ Wayne said. ‘I can read it, kind of.’ Marasi said, taking the square piece of metal. There were several characters scratched into the metal ‘Wasing the where of needing,’ she read, forming the unfamiliar words. The lofty tongue was used for old document dating to the time of the Origin, and occasionally for government ceremony. ‘It’s a call for help.’”—Page 235

I still can’t believe Spook’s bullshit slang is now a highly regarded language. I’m sure it was Kell’s idea.

“‘There’s another thing I’m thinking about you,’ she said softly. ‘Can you guess it?’ All to well.”—Page 249

Sorry Marasi, Steris and Wax are endgame.

“He groaned again, leaning his head back against the floor. I thought I asked for a little help. A voice returned to him, distinct and unexpected. And a little is what you received, I think. Waxillium started. Well…could I have some more, then? Um, please?”—Page 286

Sazed/Harmony!

‘This is a very bizarre conversation, Waxillium thought back. Yes.”—Page 286

I love these two’s interactions.

“‘Oh Survivor of Mists!’ Steris breathed, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, lips parted as she held to him. She didn’t look terrified. If anything, she seemed aroused. You are a bizarre woman, Steris, Wax thought.”—Page 297

I love Steris.

“Harmony, Waxillium though. If Miles had been born back then, in the days before, he’d have been a hero.”—Page 303

Not really. Now that I’ve read these books closer together, Miles is more Zane than anything else.

“Waxillium scratched at his chin, watching the man. Something decidedly odd was going on there. He was almost like a different person.”—Page 308

Is Brettin that kandra?

“In short, my lord, I see you for what you are. The two of us, we are beyond the points in our lives where expecting the other to change would be realistic. I will accept this about you if you will accept me. I am not without my faults, as my previous three suitors chose to explain to me—at length—in written communication.”—Page 311

My poor baby Steris! I love you and Wax will, too.

“‘Where is Telsin?’ Waxillium asked. ‘Your sister is safe.’”—Page 315

That she is.

“Driven into those eyes, point first, were what looked like a pair of thick railroad spikes. One of the eyes sockets was deformed, as if it had been crushed, long healed scars and bony ridges under the skin marring the tattoos.”—Page 321-322

Hey, Marsh.

“Ironeyes responded with a tight-lipped smile, watching her with the heads of those silvery spikes. ‘I have a feeling he’d have tried to shoot me. That one does not like unanswered questions, but he does my brother’s work, and that is something I feel inclined to encourage. Good day, Lady Marasi Colms.’”—Page 322

Wax would totally try to shoo Marsh, also hello Kell reference.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Do do monsters come to being? I mean... we know how vampirism etc. Is transmitted, but how were they created? (We know about demons, but what about the others?) What is their offspring? Someone had to be the first. Was there a overall-being who was "god" for the monsters or was it a genetical defect? Or is it unknown? (There's probably a logical answer, but I'm just to tired to make it come to my mind)

You know how my tag for season 6 is “we don’t talk about season 6″? 

I am literally… like…

we need to talk about season 6 more, because:

I love Eve, Mother of All

here’s her superwiki page:

http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=Eve

I like the speculation mentioned on that page that she’s a sort of Leviathan because I also have thought that. Specifically that she’s related to them somehow, but is also much more than them, since she seems to “own” Purgatory and that was a place created as a prison for them, and since she has her own powers of creation of a very twisted type, I see her as a sort of demigod or angel of the Leviathans - possibly created by God to manage Purgatory with as much power as she needed to keep the Leviathans from fucking everything up. Whether she started to make monsters because she was bored or needed them or it just filled a nice little niche to add some flavour to the world - or, well, because SHE was trapped in there with the Leviathans and this was her influence over the “main” creation (and perverting it to her own style and having a sort of rival creation going on is a really neat thing, especially as it was successful and her alphas and other methods of spreading monsters have created an apparently nearly permanent influence on the planet…)

I really like the speech from the alpha vamp in 6x07, which includes this line:

Alpha Vampire When your kind first huddled around the fire, I was the thing in the dark! Now you think you can hurt me?

it implies monsters have been around about as long as recognisable humans with their rudimentary stone age culture, fitting into the earliest sense of mythology humans could have had, and as monsters are sort of metaphorical of the anxieties and neuroses of human society, I like that they’ve been around from the start. 

Of course Eve also needs power to run Purgatory, and to contain the Leviathan (hey guess what happens after she dies and someone fucks up Purgatory completely by draining its power source completely :P) so it could be that whatever she initially had to manage them, wasn’t enough and the fight for the souls that heaven and hell are engaged in also began there - recognising the raw power of God’s favourite creation, she also finds a way to harvest it, and since Purgatory is a lockbox for the Leviathan that God put the seal on hoping they’d never ever get back into Creation, then the souls she takes from what’s basically a buffet for higher powers when they look at Humanity, are securely kept… Hell in contrast is like the low security prison people are walking in and out of all the time, and the purpose was never locking them away, but the torture, which incidentally involves trapping them there, but I guess only as long as it takes to make someone into a good demon for sneaking back out to raise hell on earth :P 

I also think she’s one of the most phenomenally wasted characters on the whole show because of her immense power and relevance to literally everything. There might not be other seasons with monster mytharcs, but there’s monsters in just about every season… (Uh… I haven’t checked for sure, but season 12 I think has only had one incidental vampire in a flashback in England, right? We haven’t had any monster episodes in the sense of children of Eve monsters?) … 

Anyway, thematically I would guess that Amara comes closest to re-treading this ground, but going way too far in the other direction of her beef with God 

Eve’s beef with God:

EVE You do know that Jesus was just a man.

RICK Sure, but he was also the son of God, sent here because he loves us.

EVE God doesn’t care about you.

RICK Sure he does.

EVE Your father made you and then abandoned you, so you pray. You see signs where there’s nothing. But truth is, your apocalypse came and went, and you didn’t even notice. A mother would never abandon her children like he did. You’ll see.

Instead of being his sister and focusing on the soap opera family aspects, her feeling as a rival creator is there. You could say all the alphas are like her monster Jesus-es that she sent to spread her message (uh by biting and turning humans - this thought is probably a little blasphemous but then I’m not religious and this show is probably worse :P)

… And she expresses this to a random trucker but it’s a sentiment weirdly similar to Dean’s anger with God he expresses in 12x21. Amara also spoke a few times about Creation and re-making it, but she never did a whole lot except the zompires thing, very aimlessly. I’m not sure when she spoke about re-doing Creation she meant obliterating the universe in some of the earlier discussions about it, since as a “child” she was interested in the natural world, and in 11x09 also expressed a fondness for Creation, having picked a nice picnic spot to take Dean, and saying,

Amara: I had no other reason to harm his chosen. My issue is with my brother, not his creation.

Meanwhile Eve is happily stealing humans for herself, intending to overrun the world with her creation, so she has a much more aggressive tactic, and if Dean hadn’t killed her when he did (and Crowley’s minions cleared up the loose ends) then her plan would have been one of the most destructive ones on the show, to rival what would have happened if they hadn’t stopped the Croatoan virus getting out in 5x21.

… Anyway as I was about to follow another thread on this I realised you only asked if she existed, not for a very long essay on All The Ways I Feel Supernatural Wasted Their Best Ever Character so um tl;dr the answer to your question is, yes, Eve is the Monster God who spread her monsters through the world via powerful and nigh-on un-killable “alpha” prototypes of all the usual* monsters.

*there are monsters in canon such as wendigo (*takes a shot*) that are not strictly “children of eve” although I wonder if the show would retcon them for a real return. It’s possible there’s a method of transmission that hunters have never analysed as the first season was working off vague folklore with no need to make a coherent set of worldbuilding rules underneath it. I’d also retcon the changelings from 3x02 into faires, and the striga in season 1 they classified as a witch, but I’d say is definitely a type of monster/fairy somewhere in the same family tree as the soul eater from 11x16 or banshee from 11x11 -  we just didn’t meet witches as we know them on the show until 3x09, which also retconned demons into humans, and changed them up from some sort of superpowered monster, and overall took the show in a very different direction with human threats and human nature vs the vast unknown of monsters and why they do such things. (… Also…. After 10x20 we also tracked a thread from grigori angels to djinn but djinn WERE Eve’s monsters and we know that from 6x01/6x10, which means either she perverted angels into them initially and through her monster infection powers it spread to humans, OR they just tap a very similar mechanic. The family trees are a mess :P)

Because hunters mostly wing it and just work out how to kill the thing and so on, it’s only really with the MoL that any magic-science has any sort of… accessible structure to it. They’ve done their research on monsters so it’s more of a chance to explain things than before… I’m sure if you asked Toni or Mick to explain where Wendigo come from they’d have a completely different answer to your average hunter working off legends of starving trapped loggers in the woods turning to cannibalism and becoming monstrous :P For one thing, there’s plenty of historical cannibalism recorded where people didn’t become wendigo (e.g. sieges or famines) and it seems to be based on location as well, so clearly there’s more at work there than hunters have ever really reckoned with, but… that’s also not really their job. :P

… I’m so sorry for this essay. I’m a writer and fantasy world building is one of my things that I really like doing. Throw Supernatural at me and I have a vein popping in my forehead making a coherent picture for it all because there’s so many HOLES and wasted potential and amazing ideas which are just lurking under the surface…

[dieverdediger]

Has Science Buried God? - Krauss vs Craig

I’m writing this while my memory is still fresh.

This debate between William Lane Craig and Lawrence Kraus was on the topic, Has Science Buried God? 

When the debate started I was amazed to hear Krauss’s qualifications. That he studied at Yale and had those prestigious positions made me think: “Craig has met more than his match when it comes to cosmology. This ought to be interesting”. As far as I’m aware, Craig has no official education on cosmology, but rather studies it on his own time. Therefore I concluded that whatever Krauss said on the topic I have to take seriously.

As such I was amazed that Krauss spent more than half of his presentation poisoning the well against Craig, showing the audience the videos I saw a while back where Craig “misrepresented” Dawkins and Krauss. He then went further by telling how bad Craig is for defending the expulsion of the Canaanites. Yes, those are important topics. But surely you have a more intellectual, objective use for your time? Such as proving that science buried God? I’ve never in my life seen any debate, not by Carrier or Dawkins or Ehrman or Hitchens (the last three who have or had a lot of passion), or some more reactionary Christians, not any, in which one participant so emotionally attacked his opponent.

In the discussion, for the first half Krauss barely gave Craig any time to answer his questions, interrupting him constantly. At one point he even screamed (1:31:50). I respect Ehrman, a lot. I respect Hitchens for his civility. I respect Carrier for his down to earth tone. I even (dare I say it?) respect Dawkins for generally being civil in his debates. But this emotional, childish reactions of Krauss and his tactic of muddying the water - in spite of him saying he detests any misrepresentations - I cannot respect. 

Yet one should not lose focus of the (lack of) arguments he gives, so let’s continue.

The other half of his time was spent talking about the similarities between Christianity and other religions. Seeing him compare Jesus to Dionysus was quite funny, actually. If you still believe in all these similarities, I really urge you to look up these pagan religions on Britannica Academic. That’s not my only source (I studied a little bit of Greek religion a while back), yet I believe it to be an objective, respected one. Besides, arguing that because those pagan mythologies are false that therefore Christianity is false is a very elementary non-sequitur. He said that science has disproved 999 gods, so why should the God of Christianity be any different? I will ignore (will I?) the obvious: all those gods are part of nature and most of them have not existed for eternity. To say that polytheism is false that therefore monotheism, which has always posited an eternal creator of the universe - in contrast to the temporal, mortal, limited gods who did not create the universe which most ancient mythologies posit - , is false, quite clearly does not follow.

On his slides, Krauss said:

Knowledge about the physical world has buried almost all the gods.

Nothing different about Jesus or Christianity

It is my wish for these debate reviews to be in a more neutral tone, in the line of the one I did for the debate between Craig and Atkins. Yet every time I hear an argument of the Christian God being the same as all the other gods, I am reminded of a Biblical story. It concerned the time when the Assyrian empire devoured the Middle East. They were, as far as I know, the first major empire in the Middle East. The king of Assyria, Sennacherib, wrote a letter to the people of Judah, which an emissary read to them in Hebrew. He said:

(2 Kings 18:32-35)

“Has the god of any nation ever delivered his land from the hand of the king of Assyria?  Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena and Ivvah? Have they rescued Samaria from my hand? Who of all the gods of these countries has been able to save his land from me? How then can the LORD deliver Jerusalem from my hand?"

It seems Krauss is not so original in his thinking. 

Krauss also repeated the now very old genetic fallacy, that in America people are Christians because they are raised this way and that the same applies to every other religion. Interestingly, and I doubt he knows this, Craig was not raised in a Christian home. I might as well just say that someone raised in Communist Russia is simply an atheist because he was raised that way and that therefore atheism is false. That doesn’t follow. It also doesn’t explain conversions.

Krauss said, in his slide, that we “need to bury God to produce a better moral and ethical world”. He said that you can say something is wrong because it causes pain (50:51). Craig asked why it is wrong to cause pain. Krauss simply said that it is based on “rationality”. Craig pushed the point by asking him if he really thinks that whatever is best for the greatest number of people is therefore good. Instead of giving a direct answer, he went on a rant about what’s best for society and production. The moderator (perhaps out of line) pointed out that what Krauss is espousing here, is basically utilitarianism, which is not just “based on rationality” but is highly contentious. Krauss constantly tells people what his utilitarianism is “based on rationality”, not bothering to explain that that is a highly debatable position. The moderator said, and I quote, “I am wondering if you’re not trading a little bit on the philosophical and moral ignorance of your usual audiences by throwing out themes like that as if they are non-contentious, simply rational given topics?” Is Krauss misleading people? Is that not one of the things he despises of Craig? Hypocrisy? Krauss did not respond to the accusation directly, but he did say that the moderator is “well aware of my [Kraus’s] opinion of the utility of philosophy”. What is he saying here? That philosophy is not that useful? Way to go to dismiss the moderators question. How useful. On a side note, it’s interesting how atheist apologists in the debates I’ve watched, such as Atkins, Hitchens, Dawkins and now Krauss tend to dismiss philosophy out of hand. The only debate I’ve watched where the atheist did not do so, was (coincidentally?) the one between Craig and the atheist-turned-deist philosopher, Antony Flew.

On the origins of Western scientific thought, Craig stated (32:18) that there are certain assumptions undergirding science which are grounded in philosophy and theology. These are: the laws of logic, that our cognitive faculties are reliable in knowing the world, that the physical world is orderly structured, the validity of inductive reasoning and the objectivity of the moral values used in science. This was stated in his presentation, yet the main discussion on this happened in the second half of the debate, so one may excuse Krauss missing the point. When they discussed it Krauss said that the reason - and he has a good point - that Western science was intertwined with religion was because the scientists of the day had to have had connections with bishops and popes to secure their futures. That otherwise they would not have gotten far. But now it is now no longer necessary to appeal to religion. However, as true as that is, he missed the fundamental point which Craig posited: that, consciously or not, scientists do have these assumptions which are grounded in philosophical and theological considerations and which cannot be proven by science but are taken as given.

Interesting quotes by Lawrence Krauss is that he, personally, believes it to be more probable than not that the universe had a beginning (1:31:38), and also that he believes it to be child abuse to teach children religion (1:23:29) (I’m writing this for future references where these statements can be very important).

All what bothered my from Craig is that he stooped down to Krauss’s level in the last ten minutes (1:29:00) by making a personal attack on Krauss. I can defend him by saying that Craig was probably tired of one and a half hours of interruptions and accusations by Krauss, yet I won’t. He should have been the better man. He said that Krauss misrepresents - contrary to the latter’s hatred of misrepresentations - the notion of what “nothing” is. Craig is right, but he should have put it more tactfully.

Although, on the one hand, I appreciate the moderator’s point on Krauss taking advantage of people’s lack of philosophical knowledge, I do think it unprofessional for him to have taken a side. 

The debate itself was rather a disappointment. It seemed to have focused more on morality and the issue of the Canaanites than cosmology.

Here's a poem to end with.

The Destruction of Sennacherib by Lord Byron

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.  Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.  For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!  And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.  And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.  And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!