#and really it ties into my thoughts on religion too

[buck-yyyy]

thinkin bout ghosts rn

[goatmilksoda]

[lvandrskies]

— from eden

synopsis: eve found a snake in her garden, and then fell in love with the fruit it offered.

tags: god au, past lives, soul bonds, angst, smut

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (fem. receiving), corruption kink if u squint, character death

word count: 18.3k

m.list

a/n: if you've read this before, it's because i deleted my old account and then decided to come back. as a disclaimer, religion is pretty broad in this fic. "god" in this fic is not god from the christian/catholic religion. also !! thank u @yeonjunszn for betaing this last year, love u pookie!! <33 [photo creds]. MINORS DNI

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall in love with Eve, and she pliantly went along with it. 

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God. 

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

________________

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm? 

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room. 

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it. 

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living. 

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan. 

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more. 

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again. 

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice. 

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

— 

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order. 

Not if he wants food on the table. 

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking. 

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple. 

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I��m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds. 

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps. 

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping. 

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically. 

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy. 

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening? 

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it. 

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes. 

That’s called a job. 

I don’t work here. 

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal. 

Didn’t know God can get hangry. 

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude. 

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that. 

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight. 

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you. 

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!” 

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production. 

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything. 

His stomach growls. He groans quietly. 

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat. 

Will you shut the fuck up?

________________

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth. 

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish. 

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder. 

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

________________

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck? 

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.” 

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower. 

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler. 

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.” 

The way you said that just sounds so… weird. 

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes. 

For us, yeah. 

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you. 

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

________________

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent. 

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?” 

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears. 

She’s so lonely. 

________________

Chan is reeling. 

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt. 

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now. 

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.” 

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one, it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get to know you. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches. 

I felt that. 

Shut up. 

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles. 

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.” 

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again. 

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it. 

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.” 

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud. 

Don’t ask that. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

Don’t ask that. 

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?” 

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.” 

I don’t like that answer. 

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile. 

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

________________

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.” 

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands. 

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

________________

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed. 

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun. 

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow. 

This time, Chan does roll his eyes. 

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture. 

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute. 

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile.  “You ready?” 

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response. 

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side. 

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud. 

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward. 

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?” 

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

________________

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries. 

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face. 

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face. 

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

________________

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover. 

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles. 

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check. 

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday. 

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way. 

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs. 

It means she likes you, idiot. 

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you. 

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.” 

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words. 

Oh! You pathetic man. 

Stop. 

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him. 

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his. 

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips. 

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets. 

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down. 

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.” 

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh. 

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine. 

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.” 

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. 

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations. 

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.” 

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato. 

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it. 

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that. 

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.” 

And you slept with her. 

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.” 

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening. 

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.” 

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather. 

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan. 

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man. 

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch. 

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again. 

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back. 

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

________________

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said. 

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers. 

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil. 

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover. 

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face. 

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber. 

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.” 

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

— 

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath. 

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot. 

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!” 

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?” 

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you. 

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.

His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”

You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.

Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him. 

Chan dies every time.

Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.

He can never escape it.

________________

❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞

Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here — it could be months. It could be centuries.

He doesn’t think he cares anymore.

Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body. 

It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness. 

“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.

“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.

“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”

Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.

Chan is going to die. Again.

“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”

“Kill you?” God repeats.

“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”

God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”

Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”

“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”

“How do you wish to go?”

“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond. “I will fling myself into the sun.”

________________

Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.

You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.

When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.

“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”

“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”

“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”

“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”

“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”

You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”

“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”

Your phone falls from your hand.

________________

God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.

“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”

“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”

“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”

“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”

“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”

“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”

Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas. 

Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired. 

God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.

And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.

Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.

________________

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

© lvandrskies — all rights reserved. no reposting.

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations: No.20

*just based on my opinions, only take what resonates

I feel like 2nd house overlays can make you overly forgiving towards the person with planets in your 2nd house. It’s a Venusian house and that can bring a sort of desire to see the best in that person (7th can have this effect to a lesser degree imo bc Libra is focused on balance, so there’s affection there but it’s less likely to skew into being overly forgiving)

Chiron in the first can be a very beautiful person when they’ve really healed their wounds. A person who has a sort of glow from their inner light.

Earth moons in general like to receive and give gifts and Capricorn moons tend to be hyper fixated on giving the right gifts to the people they’re close to

5th house Venus could make you more creative in a relationship

7th house venus/Taurus/Libra definitely creates more in a healthy relationship

Mars conjunct MC could mean being known for a career in violence, like martial artist or action star

Lilith MC could mean success in a taboo career, like s*x work or just some alternative field (I’m a tattoo artist :0)

People with planets conjunct your south node are definitely tied to your past life and may be destined to do certain actions towards/with you

North Node overlays can also be tied to past life but they’re usually here to make sure you grow in some capacity/move towards your destiny.

Your Venus sign could show the most beloved features of your body (Sagittarius Venus- a lot of people may notice your legs, Libra Venus- a lot of people may notice your butt, Virgo Venus- a lot of people may notice your hands, etc)

Moon conjunct Jupiter could make you very empathetic, could also make people see your emotions as big whenever you express them

Imo Virgo shows where you are a minimalist (Virgo Asc usually has a minimalist approach to fashion/accessories/tattoos/etc, Virgo Venus or Virgo in 11th could point to having a circle of only a few friends, Virgo in 4th could show a minimally decorated home, etc)

Aries risings tend to have big heads/foreheads or their heads are the first things people notice about them (my mom used to get called tweety bird bc she had a big head and a little body which was mean, but so is she so…..)

Pisces moons tend have this look like they could cry at any time (like their eyes always look wet and sad if that makes sense lol)

Wherever Pluto aspects (trine, Sextile) your personal planets shows where you can be the most transformative (or obsessive/possessive lowkey, especially for harsh aspects like square/oppositions— conjunct feels the intensity of both). Moon can show that your emotions push you to transform, Venus is this for your personal/romantic relationships, Saturn is how you use the lessons it teaches and how it affects your self discipline, etc

Leo in 6th could point to dealing with performance anxiety

Cancer in 8th could point to trauma around family (Scorpio over 4th could point to this too)

Gemini in 8th could point to trauma with neighbors/siblings/cousins/the education system or communication in general (Scorpio over 3rd could point to this too)

Sagittarius in 8th can point to having religious trauma or having intense/taboo experience with religion (Scorpio over 9th could point to this too)

Capricorn can show where you start to lose yourself and can’t go through with when your stressed (I have Capricorn in 3rd and I literally lose my voice when I internalize stress, it’ll start cracking so fast it’s spooky. Capricorn in 5th could mean you absolutely cannot relax when your stressed. In 6th your health starts to act up immediately and you catch colds. In 1st you may have issues with your skin/breakouts when you’re stressed out.)

Mercury in 12th could stay up all night overthinking or experiencing intrusive thoughts

Virgo moons that oversimplify are underdeveloped

The mother of a Capricorn moon views love as super transactional (like if you don’t give them a hug you don’t love them, instead of the child being a person who deserves their own autonomy)(I was watching Beef and I got frickin triggered when Ali Wong’s character said her daughter was “supposed to love her forever” but wouldn’t give her a hug when Ali wanted her to, so she thought her daughter’s love was conditional— I was like holy sh*t I’ve heard that before!! Lol Saturn moon gang lol)

[humornaut]

Hey, @basil-daisy here.

I just wanted to drop by because there's something that has been eating my insides for a long time and I can't get it out of my head.

I wanna talk about the scenes in Black Space, more precisely the scenes in the Church of Something, both the Sunny route and Omori route, although the Omori route one was really the one that made me think.

Have you ever thought about how the scene where Omori finally finds and "saves" Basil in the Omori route feels strangely like... A wedding?

It's not only the bridal style way Omori catches Basil. It's the way Basil lightly complains about Omori being late, the way they stop as Omori gives Basil his flower crown back and how directly after the act is interrupted by Stranger, who objects the whole "thing". A spectacle a bunch of "guests" witness.

I was always really curious about the church symbolism. For example the way Basil is stuck at the top of the church. I've tried really hard not to think about what usually is in the same place in churches because that comparison is making me die inside, even if it weirdly makes sense (Basil died for your sins U^U).

Besides that we have Sunny's interesting relationship with religion. Mainly that he probably feels insanely guilty. He feels judged by all the religious statues, moreover the snow angels, which are also one of my favourites, don't need to have the game tell us Omori feels judged by them. You feel it just by looking at their eyes.

The fact that Basil is in a church of all places is so telling too. Besides masses churches are known for holding weddings and, well, funerals. And in case of Faraway town's church is has a graveyard right behind it, where Mari lies.

I wonder if the scene in the Omori route is supposed to feel like a wedding but also double as a funeral (considering it marks the end of Stranger and his admittance of defeat that is actually a premonition of Basil's death in real life). It's one of the few scenes between routes that changes drastically and what it represents is absolutely fascinating.

What is really interesting also is that in the Sunny route the scene feels is completely different. It no longer feels like wedding. If anything it is just Basil begging for forgiveness, which does of course ties well with religion. But he's not begging for God's forgiveness, no, he's begging for his best friend's forgiveness.

I imagine this might be another way of showing us that Basil idolises Sunny as well as telling us that Basil feels really bad (what an understatement).

I also question if the Omori route scene is there to mirror the Sweetheart marriage scene somewhat, but I think I would need to dwell a bit more on that to come reach a proper conclusion.

Anyway, I hope you're having a lovely day! 💜

Wow, this is a really good ask! I'm going to break it down into a few different parts.

The Symbolism of the Church of Something

I think you are right on the money in how things go down in the Church of Something in the Omori route. The entire scene does almost play out as a wedding! Not just as a marriage to Headspace Basil, but as a final marriage to Headspace in general. After Sunny moves, whether or not he ever finds out about the fate of the real Basil, he has wholly become Omori. Stranger's objection does represent the last vestige of Sunny's mind trying to stop him from doing this; after all, saving the real Basil is the only loose end that Sunny really feels a responsibility for in a way that he can fix. He may want to see his other friends again, but he doesn't feel guilty for not doing so, because he feels he doesn't deserve it. Basil's a different story, because he knows he did Basil wrong for the selfish reason of protecting himself from his past.

To deepen the significance of this "wedding to Headspace Basil, and with it, a marriage to the concept of Headspace itself", I also want to point out that there is an implication that the end of Black Space in the Sunny route is not an end to the loop of Headspace, which won't happen until Sunny decides to shatter the light bulb on the next night. There is Stranger dialogue in the hub area that makes clear that killing the Basil that has seen the truth in Red Space is something that usually happens, and when you go there, you can find multiple of Basil's bodies littering the area. Instead, it's the Omori route that "breaks the loop of Headspace", via Stranger choosing to attack Sunny for abandoning Basil and the others.

That's not even mentioning the things that happen after this in the Omori route.

The flower crown that Headspace Basil gives to Sunny in the last Headspace Night in the Omori route provides twice as much HEART as the next best charm in that department (with those charms being the the Pretty Bow, a charm tied to Aubrey, and the Tulip Hairstick, a charm tied to Omori). The use of the word "precious" is also used in the Sunny route, in the description for Basil's Photo Album:

All three of these charms are only accessible in the Omori route, as well. The Pretty Bow item is only receivable after defeating Abbi, and is explicitly described as "too flashy for your taste".

Finally, so long as we are talking about weddings in Headspace, there is another thing that we would be remiss not to talk about. To go along with your mention of the Snow Angels (who have another interesting connection that I will go over later), the charm that you get from completing this area is the Wedding Ring.

As I've mentioned before, there are three different charms that allow the wearer to start happy, and they generally have fairly romantic connotations. First is the daisy, which both you and I understand is likely tied to Basil, but also has a romantic connotation due to the context of being a reward for assisting a character acquire a gift for their crush.

The second is one that I would also tie to Basil.

The Heart String is such an interesting little item, and the way it is tied to Basil isn't as immediately obvious as the Daisy. First off, this item is really easy to miss. You have to grab it during the chase section within Humphrey, and you can't go back to grab it afterwards to get it. There is also another item in the same area: the Blender weapon for Hero. This item immediately sets off alarm bells in my head, because smoothies (the only snacks in the list that are made in a blender) are snacks that are pretty clearly tied to Basil. Why make these two items into two of the only completely miss-able items in the game? And it doesn't evade my notice that shortly before Humphrey, where you find these charms, you have the Branch Coral, who makes another connection to Basil using the romantic image of a string.

Finally, the wedding ring is tied to Basil in another way, and that is what's going on in the area that you find it. Obviously, there is a negative association between Headspace Basil and the cold/snow, but there's also the fact that the ascent up Snowglobe Mountain is reminiscent of the leadup to the Church of Something in general, with the stairs and the snow. And regarding the Snow Angels, aside from the religious connotations behind them, there is another neat association. Take a look:

this was pointed out by someone in a discord server that I am in, and I unfortunately do not remember who at this point. Let me know if you see this and want credit!

I would argue that this similarity was intentional, as an older version of the game had White Egret Orchids looking much different, though I can't find a beta picture of Basil's house at this exact moment. These Snow Angels serve much the same purpose as Stranger in this route: being embodiments of Sunny's guilt for abandoning Basil and refusing to take responsibility for his sins. This takes place on the final night before Sunny moves, the same night that the real Basil chooses to end his own life. These are his final thoughts following Sunny into his dreams (whether you take this as literal or figurative).

One last thought on Basil in the Omori route before moving on: the Basil Rush, and how it’s the most explicit the game ever gets about how Sunny imagines his Basil's closeness.

Like, oh my goodness. The TAG photos didn't even need to exist, but they were put in anyway! And a little detail that goes unnoticed a lot, is that the hand-holding TAG photo is one in which Omori has initiated it! I think part of the tragedy of the Omori route is that it is most player's second playthrough (if they ever play it at all) and it is when the idea of Sunny and Basil having romantic feelings for each other starts being implied way heavier than before. Congrats! You got some heavy romantic subtext between the two boys. One of them is dead in the real world because you didn't save him.

Moving on!

The Religious Connotations of Headspace Basil

You didn't want to go into it very heavily, but I will: among other things, Sunny's dreamworld has turned Headspace Basil into a Christ-like figure.

Of course, there is his position in the Church of Something, but that's not all. He constantly wears a Flower Crown (crown of thorns, anyone?). In fact, Omori has to give Basil the Flower Crown back in the very first Black Space area, the Watermelon Area, seemingly as a preface for what's going to be happening with Headspace Basil throughout that portion of the game.

Look at what he says during the hide and seek game:

There's also the fact that in the Sunny route, we are looking at a game that takes place over three days and three nights after Basil disappears from Headspace, which I'm sure I don't have to point out the significance of.

This is a connotation that Sunny is making himself. Basil did not choose to take on Sunny's sins in real life, he expected that they would always be together. It was Sunny that decided to throw the responsibility of both of their sins on Basil, by choosing to forget. Basil will literally die for Sunny's sins in the real world.

Which brings us to the Flower Crown that Basil gifts to Omori after being rescued. Whether Sunny knows it or not, Basil has decided to end his own suffering in the real world. By gifting the flower crown to Omori, Headspace Basil has symbolically indicated that the situation has been reversed. Basil is no longer suffering for Sunny's sins, but Sunny is about to start suffering for Basil's. We are told numerous times throughout the game that Headspace is on its last legs. It's running out of places to hide the truth. We see Black Space leaking through almost everywhere, and the Basil Rush ends in a direct reminder of the day of the incident.

All that is to say, Headspace is seemingly going to fail, and soon. Black Space has grown too strong. If you ask me, it's only a matter of time until news of the real Basil's death has reached Sunny in the real world, and that will be the tipping point. From there on, assuming Sunny even decides to go on after that point, he will be living with the same weight that Basil did for those four years after Sunny left him, and there won't be anyone to save him.

The Sunny Route and Sweetheart's Castle

Finally, you mentioned how the scene goes in the Sunny Route. It should be noted, right after Stranger merges with the version of Basil there is the first time in the entire game that a version of Basil in Sunny's head refers to Sunny exclusively as his best friend, and from that point on, we will see that repeated in Sunny's mind. The room that Omori and Basil fall into prior to Red Space is one that we will see during the truth sequence, but it also appears in the Omori route, in a manner that we should discuss, as it ties into what you said about Sweetheart's Castle being connected. After all, the room that Omori and Basil falls into is the same room that Sweetheart's Castle turns into once you accept the Keeper of the Castle's deal, as I noted in my post about Sweetheart's Castle previously.

Sweetheart herself represents Sunny; both in his quest for presenting a perfect version of himself and his broken understanding of love, both of others and himself. Spaceboy represents the more "Omori" part of him; someone claiming to be above his emotions, but ultimately ruled by them. He even changes his name while he is in a relationship with Sweetheart. From this interpretation, we can extrapolate that their wedding in the castle is a representation of the Omori route's ending, right down to ending up on Snowglobe Mountain.

I also want to point out what happens right after this. You don't immediately just jump on down to the Lost Library. You try to leave, but right before you exit the area, you get the cutscene showing Stranger on the stage, leading you into the hole, meaning you literally need to walk down the aisle of an area explicitly designed for a wedding to follow Stranger into the Lost Library.

Whether or not you interpret Sunny and Basil as having romantic feelings for each other, this seems very symbolic of the fact that accepting and following Stranger (who I have previously described as the individual in which Basil's love of Sunny resides, be it romantic or platonic) is how you get to the truth. It's as if Sweetheart and Spaceboy's wedding represented the ending of Black Space in the Omori route, while what happens right after represents the ending of Black Space in the Sunny route. And like most of the ways Sunny remembers aspects of his history, the library is tied to Basil. Where the real Basil would provide books for Sunny to read, Stranger leads him to an entire library filled with books depicting his memories, both good and bad.

I hope you found all this interesting! I haven't really gotten the chance to talk about these things before, since I haven't really found the motivation to talk about them in their own post before! I hope you have a wonderful day as well! Time to go back to packing for my flight tomorrow!

[piratefalls]

once again a mix of oldies, goodies, and oldies but goodies, because apparently my brain decided to start treating fic the way i do books: collect them and forget to read them.

masterlist.

all we are is skin and bones by IndestructibleHeart

Alex didn't plan to push Henry Fox into oncoming traffic.

Amigos y Migas by floatingaway4

“Christ, how is this so good? It’s like magic and science and...and I don’t even know what else.” Henry moans as he swallows another bite. “How the fuck does he do this? And how does he do it in a truck the size of our walk-in freezer?” Pez leans back against the wall. “Are you eating that or getting turned on by it, Henners?” Henry rolls his eyes, even as he tries to glare at his head sommelier. “Can’t I do both?” The sauce drips down his wrist and he shamelessly licks it off.

silk and steel by teacupivy

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

Never Truly Leave by clottedcreamfudge

"We found something in Arthur's things," Catherine says, without any preamble. "I've never really... gone through his personal effects properly, until now. It's been rather too difficult for me to face." Alex nods. ... "I found something for Henry, but it's... Well, it's actually for you." Alex blinks at her.

Date night (it's a tie) by TheAmberFox

“So here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. I want you to strip out of these clothes and get on the bed, so I can tie you to our headboard with both our stupidly boring ties and make you come until you can’t any more. Would you be amiable?”

religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) by coffeecatsme

“You seriously never heard of Henry?” Alex feels defensive. “Should I have?” he asks, and the guy stares at him for another second before a laugh escapes his lips. “Well, rumor has it he’s turned multiple people here gay.” Or, 5 times Henry brings a guy home and 1 time he doesn't have to. Or, Henry is a rumored sex god, Alex is his roommate, and he's jealous of everyone Henry brings through the front door.

Race You to Forever by allmylovesatonce

Alex comes up with the perfect proposal idea: He and Henry should compete for it. Henry is less than enthused, but agrees anyway. Neither of them could predict the strange things that happen when they're competing for who gets to propose to the other.

a rich and complex tapestry by everwitch

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

I fall to pieces when I'm with you by viciouslyqueer

If once is an accident, and twice is a coincidence, when it happens a third time Henry really starts to think about it. — Three times Alex doesn't want Henry to touch him and one time he understands why.

I must tell you what you will not ask by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Henry's lower lip wobbles, and a fresh tear rolls down his cheek. Alex watches it track down to his chin, and wonders if Henry would mind him wiping it away. “I really was looking forward to seeing them.” Another tear escapes, and this time Alex can't help but lean forward and brush it away with his thumb. Henry's breath catches, and he looks at Alex, wearing an expression he can't quite parse. “Come home with me,” Alex blurts out. Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?

love me long, be my sunlight by weather_stained

“What is it, then?” Henry asks. Alex glances up at him, and there’s laughter in his big brown eyes. “It’s porn,” he says gleefully. “In your handwriting.” While unpacking their office together, Alex comes across some very explicit Star Wars fanfiction written by none other than HRH Prince Henry himself.

we might just get away with it by smc_27

Henry is the most gorgeous man Alex has ever seen. And Alex has seen a lot of gorgeous men. He’s a fucking model. “This is Henry Fox-Mountchristen,” Prada’s current PR lead says, and Alex smiles and pushes his hand out. “He’s a journalist covering the merger.” Alex doesn’t know what merger or what it would have to do with Paris Fashion Week. But he does know that Henry holding a glass of champagne as he shakes Alex’s hand is maybe the sexiest thing ever, and there is just no explanation for that. “Hi. I’m Alex.” Henry says, “I know,” and then does this weird, forced smile at Bianca and walks away. Alex doesn’t know how to like, not be completely obsessed with things he wants. OR, Alex is a model. Henry is a journalist, and a bit of an asshole. Alex wants him anyway, even when it doesn’t feel good.

Someone Special by bleedingballroomfloor

"That was Shaan," Henry explains as Alex snuggles closer to him, pressing his nose to his neck. "The blizzard hit early, apparently. Too risky to fly." "So Christmas here?" Alex says in that sleepy drawl of his that Henry will never get tired of. "Fuckin' sweet."

Because I'm A Scoundrel by inexplicablymine

Alex Claremont-Diaz has exactly thirty minutes to make himself look as slutty as possible for this Halloween Gala. At this very moment he looks a little bit like a sexed up pirate, but with the addition of his small black vest - rest in peace to the Patagonia packers and finance brethren- and a low slung belt with a “blaster,” a very sex-on-legs Han Solo is looking back at him. Henry Fox, who is both a double scull rower with enough Olympic medals it would make anyone other than Alex sweat, and the definitive arch nemesis of Alex - is wearing a white sylvette Princess Leia costume, hugging his curves in all the right ways, the clingy fabric draping to the floor. When you and your arch nemesis show up to the most important gala of the year in a couples costume you either play it up or shut it down. Alex has a decision to make, but the way that dress is hugging Henry’s ass isn’t making that decision any easier.

the super sick(s) by cricketnationrise

Super Six snowed in at the brownstone.

two is better than one by rizcriz

Henry swallows. “You were going to propose to me tonight?” Alex nods. “I still am,” He says, throwing his hands out at his sides. “If I can find the damn ring.” “Right. But,” Henry reaches into his pocket and pulls the ring out of his pocket that he’d quite literally just picked up from the jeweler. “I was going to propose to you tonight.” He holds the ring box up between them. -- Or, Alex and Henry both want to propose.

every tale condemns me for a villain by tintagel

Alex Diaz is one of the worst villains to have come out of reality TV in a while. Just Henry's luck that he's doing a signing for his new autobiography at the bookshop. But it's tough to hate someone when you only see what's been edited together.

Oxidation by Thee_Maxwell

“Well, Alex–” and yep. Yeah. Yeah. His name sounds as nice in Henry’s mouth as he hoped it would. His vowels are open, wide, but he doesn’t hesitate when saying it. It comes out like he knows Alex, like he’s known Alex. He goes a little warmer at the thought, and if he were doing anything other than flirting with a very pretty boy, Alex would blame it solely on the alcohol. “–I’ve got to ask. Is there more to the getup?” That catches him off-guard, and he’s not entirely sure what Henry means, so he tilts his head like a dog watching something that interests him. Henry huffs out a laugh, but clarifies, “Perhaps I’m mistaken. The uh, the hanky. Cowboy, yeah?”

blushing ears and bleeding hearts by kill8a

The man is gorgeous. Like, objectively. Long legs and wide shoulders and wavy blonde hair, cheekbones sculpted from marble, black pressed slacks and a robin egg blue button down, expensive loafers on his feet and a nametag pinned on his shirt… Alex doesn’t understand how someone can walk out of the house and just look like that. or, alex meets henry while studying in the library and is immediately interested

when you know, you know by vibrantsaturn

With shaky hands, Henry pulls out the ring from the box, looking at Alex with tearful eyes that he adores so much. Asks, "Alex, darling, will you marry me?" Alex lets out a watery laugh, swiping an arm across his face to get rid of the rapidly falling tears. He kneels down to cup Henry's face and brushes his thumbs across his cheekbones softly. "Baby. Don't you remember?" Alex whispers, leaning their foreheads together. "We're already married."  or, Alex "marries" his best friend when he's six-years-old. It just takes some time for them to fall in love, but they get there.

if you take a life, do you know what you'll give? by anincompletelist

It would have been one thing had Alexander’s job description been simply to stay in his hotel room and operate the funds covertly, an exceedingly safe distance away from Henry and any of Le Chiffre’s men. As it is, they’d instructed Alex to play the part of Henry’s date for the night, subsequently granting him the access he’d need to the private cardroom within the casino in order to report back to headquarters the funds needed in the precise moment Henry would need them. It's too dangerous, and he knows it. Henry's had a lot of blood on his hands in this life, but he refuses to have Alex's as well.

Got a will to win and a Cheshire grin by @kiwiana-writes

Please find attached the list of collective bargaining agreement breaches reported by the Sports and Recreation Floor in December. As the designated union representative, it is my responsibility to ensure that the rights and interests of our members are protected and upheld, even (or maybe especially) during our busiest time of year. In accordance with the grievance procedure outlined in our collective bargaining agreement, we request that Santa’s Workshop takes immediate corrective action to remedy these breaches. Please set up a meeting at your earliest convenience to discuss these issues further and explore appropriate resolutions. Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.

You're the Perfect Gift for Me by chamel

“Twenty-one-year-old Scotch,” the man says with a low whistle, looking more impressed than anything else. “Special occasion or just expensive taste?” Alex can’t stop his grimace. “Came up here to propose,” he says, even though this random stranger doesn’t need to hear his woes. “Found out my girlfriend’s getting back together with her high school sweetheart.” “Ouch,” the man replies, the word sounding slightly absurd in his rounded, posh accent. He looks at the bartender. “Leave the bottle.” (Dumped two days before Christmas by his girlfriend, Alex meets a British writer who's spending Christmas on his own in generic Tiny Town, USA, and together they discover something new to celebrate.)

the clementine thing by saintlynomenclature

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company. Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him. - Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

You're So Attractive; How Did That Happen by @sparklepocalypse

Henry is a big man. He’s tall — taller than either of his siblings and most of his cousins. His shoulders are broad. Years on horseback have helped him develop decent muscle mass. So when Alex storms into his life like a beautiful, infuriating tornado, Henry fully expects to continue feeling big. But Alex has ways of making Henry feel small, cherished, even precious. (Or, three things about Alex that make Henry feel wonderfully small, and one thing that doesn't.)

as always, if you want me to tag you for whatever reason just let me know. see you next week!

@starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

[supernovaa-remnant]

L’manberg, Nationalism, and c!Dream

Okay, I know it’s been done to death, but I’ve been reading Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities for a class which talks about nationalism as an imagined community, so nationalism has been on my mind. And, of course, my mind’s natural progression was to start thinking about L’manberg and nationalism again. So, without further ado, here’s my post on L’manberg, Nationalism, and how that played a role in c!Dream’s story arc. 

(Also, I haven’t written an essay in ages, and I haven’t done analysis in ages, so please cut me some slack lol)

It’s under the cut because this is a very, very long post (3.2k words long, in fact). (you can also read it on google docs if you'd prefer).

What is Nationalism?

To start this all, we need to take a moment to step away from Minecraft roleplay to actually talk about nationalism itself. Since I know most of you are here to hear about the Minecraft roleplay aspect, I’ll try to keep it as brief as possible, but it is very important for context. I’ll bold (and color) the main points if you just want to read those before skipping down to the L’manberg section, but you’re more than welcome to read all of this. 

To understand nationalism, you need to understand a bit about how it came to be, which requires a bit of knowledge about the transition from pre-modern to modern times. In general, this transition is often thought to have occurred in the mid-18th century during the Age of Enlightenment and during the time when a lot of revolutions were taking place, such as the American Revolution and the French Revolution. But it’s important to note that there isn’t really such a clear cut line of when this transition from pre-modern to modern times happened, and, in many ways, this change is still occurring to this day.

The most important aspect of this change to think about in the context of this post is in terms of religion, though I will also briefly talk about the shift from dynastic rule to democracy. I want to start off by briefly talking about this because, in many ways, nationalism has taken on the role that religion held in pre-modern times. (Side note: this isn’t to say nationalism replaced religion, but the widespread role of religion in people’s lives today is different than it was in, say, the 14th century). 

In pre-modern times, religion gave people a sense of belonging, and this idea of belonging is something I’ll come back to, but, for now, you should know that nationalism gives a similar sense of belonging. I won’t get into too much detail about why Anderson specifically says this is a sense of belonging to an imagined community, but it basically comes down to the fact that you’ll never know everyone in your community (whether that be religious or national), but you still feel a sense of belonging to the collective.

“Okay, Stella, very interesting, but you still haven’t defined nationalism.” Alright, alright, I’ll define nationalism, which requires me to define a nation. In Anderson’s words, from page 6 of Imagined Communities, “it is an imagined political community—and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign.” I want you to take a note specifically of it being inherently limited and file that away for later. 

I said I was going to briefly discuss the shift from dynastic rule to democracy, so I’ll do that now. So, a couple things about these dynastic rules with centralized power: firstly, it was believed that the monarchs had some sort of divine right to rule from God (see how this ties into religion?), and, secondly, a lot of borders were less defined the further you got from the centralized powers. Obviously, with the shift from pre-modern to modern times, both of these things changed, bringing the idea of giving power to the people, and also bringing more concrete borders.

Anyway, moving on. Nations are imagined as inherently limited because no one imagines one nation as encompassing all of humanity. Yes, in modern times borders are very concrete and defined, but it goes beyond that—in a person’s mind, nations are limited because there are always people who do not belong to the nation. It’s not often thought about, but with a sense of belonging comes exclusion. The entire concept of belonging comes from the idea of being with people who are similar to you, and this implies the existence of people who are so dissimilar that you don’t belong with them, and, thus, they don’t belong with you. It can easily become a double edged sword, I think; there is comfort in belonging to a collective, but it can be all too easy to fall into an “us vs them” mentality, which is going to be an important point moving forward.

So, how does this all relate to a Minecraft Roleplay?

L’manberg and Nationalism

Onto the fun stuff! Minecraft Roleplay! Obviously, L’manberg is a nation, so I’m sure you can already see how nationalism is going to play a role, but let’s get into it. First, though, I’d like to give a minor disclaimer that not everything is going to fit perfectly simply on account of the fact that the DSMP takes place in a very sparsely inhabited world, and, honestly, that alone makes governmental structures of any kind really interesting to look at, but I digress since it’s not the point of this post. (It also means that nationalism as talked about in this post isn’t really an imagined community like Anderson claims it is. From a meta standpoint, you could say this sense of nationalism actually leaked into the audience itself, but in the story it’s not really an imagined community).

The DSMP starts out as a world with no borders and no governmental structures of any kind—it starts with no nations. Rather, the DSMP in itself is a cohesive community to which everyone belongs. It’s not a community like nationalism, nor is it a community like religion, nor is it an imagined community in any way. As previously stated, the DSMP is a sparsely populated world, and, at least at the start, everyone knows each other or knows of each other as an individual. This sense of belonging is more akin to a group of friends than anything else, which I think makes the introduction of nationalism especially interesting. 

c!Wilbur. What a guy, am I right? He shows up to the server, and he brings with him capitalism and the idea of monopolizing resources—there’s an interesting post to be made about that, I’m sure, but not the point of this one—and, most importantly, he brings with him the concept of a nation. He’s putting up borders, putting up walls, and essentially dividing a place that used to be united, citing L’manberg as an independent country, which is does not include everyone in the server (it’s limited), and which is separate from the DSMP and essentially is its “own server” (it’s sovereign). Sound familiar? Yeah, it’s ✨nationalism✨

I’ve seen posts talking about the fact that L’manberg was specifically satirizing nationalism, and though, despite my efforts, I couldn’t find these posts (if anyone has them please send them to me! I’d love to re-read them and link them in this post), I do think it’s true. I think there’s a lot to be said about L’manberg from a narrative and meta standpoint, and I think there’s a lot to be said about the fact that c!Wilbur was always written as a villain in the story (and not just during the Pogtopia arc, despite popular belief), but I can’t get into it all in this post. So, what I do want to do is come back to the concept of belonging and how that always comes with exclusion, and I want to talk about the “us vs them” mentality.

The reason I say L’manberg is satirizing nationalism is because it takes these facets of nationalism to the extreme. It’s not just a place made to give people a sense of belonging which in turn creates exclusion; L’manberg is a xenophobic nation, and I would go as far to say that its founding was based more on exclusion than inclusion. That is to say, the exclusive aspect was not just an unfortunate yet inevitable side effect of creating a nation. From the very start, L’manberg was founded on the exclusion of non-Europeons, and, more specifically, the exclusion of Americans. Sapnap actually originally wanted to join, but he was denied because he’s American. L’manberg wasn’t ever some place accepting of anyone who came to it, and it wasn’t a place to be free from tyranny, but let’s get into the idea of L’manberg going against tyranny. 

The “us vs them” mentality is already extremely dangerous and something to be wary of, and it’s something I think we should constantly be checking ourselves on, but L’manberg takes that to a further extreme. I don’t want you to think this point is completely separate from the point I made before, because they do very much connect to each other and are intertwined. Nations are limited. This means there will always be people who don’t belong to any given nation. Obviously, in this case, members of the greater DSMP do not belong to L’manberg. (I think it’s also helpful to remember that c!Wilbur specifically didn’t allow dual-citizenship; c!Tubbo initially wanted to be a citizen of both the greater DSMP and L’manberg, but that wasn’t allowed, so in the end he became a citizen of only L’manberg).

But, this wasn’t just a case of the greater DSMP being separate from L’manberg. No, they were tyrants that L’manberg was escaping from. c!Dream was a tyrant that L’manberg was fighting against. It’s taking the “us vs them” mentality to an extreme of “we are the righteous good guys fighting against oppression and tyranny, and they are the tyrants trying to oppress us.” It sure sounds like a noble cause—and you can always count on c!Wilbur to spout pretty words that convince people to play on his terms—but is that really the case? In a place that previously had no nations and no real defined hierarchy of power, how could tyranny exist? As I said before, the DSMP previously was more like a group of friends living in a commune than anything else, and tyranny doesn’t really seem applicable in that context, does it? This is c!Wilbur spinning a narrative that is going to continue to affect the SMP all the way to the very end, and it’s also what places c!Dream and c!Tommy on opposite sides from the very beginning, by establishing that extreme “us vs them” mentality.

(Oh, it should also be noted that the “us vs them” mentality very often leads to the dehumanization of the other side, so keep that in mind for when we get to c!Dream). 

(Also there’s something to be said about the L’manberg revolution being heavily based on Hamilton, which is based on the American Revolution, which was a very key part of the transition from pre-modern to modern times and how that relates to nationalism, but this post is already getting long enough).

So, yeah, L’manberg was satirizing nationalism. And, ultimately, L’manberg was never good for the server as a whole.

c!Dream and Nationalism, even in the wake of L’manberg

Ough. c!Dream… :( oh he really did walk the path laid out for him by c!Wilbur to the very end, didn’t he?

Listen, everything c!Dream does on the server is ultimately tied back to the founding of L’manberg, and, in turn, to the introduction of nationalism to the server. One of c!Dream’s primary goals is unity (or, specifically, the unity and simplicity of the server from pre-L’manberg times), and this is antithetical to nationalism, or, at least, to the extreme form of nationalism that L’manberg brought. Because nationalism brought division, and division brought conflict, and conflict brought death (specifically canon deaths). And, well, we all know how much death is a motivator for c!Dream.

(Also, there is something to be said about the start of nationalism and nations on the server not being framed as a good thing in the narrative, how it was satirizing and criticizing the concept of nationalism, and there’s something to be said about how the narrative agrees with the group of anarchists—the Syndicate—who push against the idea of nations. But, well, that’s also a post for another day). 

Now, obviously, unity is not c!Dream’s only motivation—actually, I think we’d all agree that the thing that motivated c!Dream the most was fear. But, a lot of this fear does tie back to L’manberg and the narrative built by c!Wilbur. So, let’s for a moment take a look at how this narrative affected other people’s perceptions of c!Dream.

Remember how I said the “us vs them” mentality often leads to dehumanization? Well, well, well. Listen, this is dreblr. The dehumanization of c!Dream has been talked about to death, but that’s because it’s always relevant to his character!! And I’m here to say that this dehumanization started all the way back during the L’manberg revolution when c!Wilbur labeled c!Dream a tyrant. Obviously the dehumanization of c!Dream is incredibly apparent with the revive book and in Pandora’s Vault, but this is not a post about the box, unfortunately (I’m sorry—I know we all love the box here 💔).

c!Dream’s dehumanization started the moment he was labeled as a tyrant and the moment he was labeled as the “enemy.” He became the “them” in the “us vs them” mentality that was adopted by L’manberg. He’s the oppressor they need to defeat, and he’s the monster that needs to be slain. And this is important because this never went away. Even after L’manberg was gone, the concept of nations and the concept of “us vs them,” never went away! c!Dream was still the enemy that needed to be killed! And, over the course of time when L’manberg was still around, c!Dream lost pretty much everyone. Everyone was turning against him, people were using attachments against him, and people wanted to kill him (New L’manberg was planning to execute him under the false pretense of a peaceful celebration!). And, yes, he did plenty of bad things during this time (namely exile), but I think we should also remember that most people did not know about what happened during exile at this time. They wanted to kill him because he was powerful and dangerous, and he wasn’t with them so he was against them because that’s the narrative L’manberg created—if they’re not with us, they’re against us.

Everyone was against him, and he was spiraling (pushed further by the existence of the revive book) to the point that he commissioned the build of a giant, obsidian, inescapable prison and he locked himself in there with the hope that it would protect him and save his life. (☹️) Obviously that didn’t work like he’d hoped, but… well… 

As I said before: none of this stuff went away even after L’manberg was gone. The concept of nationalism didn’t magically disappear from the server just because L’manberg was destroyed. Nations kept popping up. The server kept splitting itself into more pieces and factions, and it all became so convoluted. I think it’s important to remember the population of the SMP—they don’t really have enough people to make functioning governments, yet they keep trying to make nations, anyway. They’re following L’manberg’s footsteps. They’re chasing this concept of nationalism.

Obviously this affected everyone’s lives, but it really did ruin c!Dream’s life. The introduction of nationalism is what causes c!Dream’s life to essentially start falling apart. I don’t want to rehash stuff that’s already been said a lot in dreblr, so there’s a lot about c!Dream’s motivations and story that I’m not including, but I want to bring our attention to a certain line c!Dream said in the finale streams: “Why can’t things be simple again?”

Because things were simple before all this! It was a group of friends making a home!! They built the community center because the server was meant to be a cohesive community of friends. There was never a need for nations or governments! It was just a group of friends making a home together! And then it all became so convoluted, and there were nations when there didn’t need to be any, and people were being divided into sides and being divided into “us” and “them,” and it was so irrevocably different from what the server started as. And I don’t think c!Dream ever really figured out how to accept that it was irrevocable :( and even he himself was blindsided by the story crafted by L’manberg and by c!Wilbur, to the point that he didn’t even fully understand his own goals! Because he (and everyone else) got so used to nationalism on the server and factions and conflicts and “us” vs “them,” that he didn’t even realize he just wanted things to go back to how they were :( oughhhh c!dreamie :((

Sorry to devolve into emotions at the end of this, but it’s not an academic paper, so I think you should cut me some slack. It’s just :( “I don’t ever want to be alone” because with nationalism comes exclusion and it eventually brought c!Dream to a point where he was so, so alone and :( He makes me so sad </3

Anyway, the reason the DSMP didn’t end with c!Dream dead at c!Tommy’s hands is because that was never the point of the story—that was the narrative L’manberg was trying to spin, but that was never what the story was actually about. It took up until the very end for them to break free from the story of L’manberg.

(And, it’s been mentioned many times before, but there’s a reason this was never able to happen until c!Wilbur was removed from the narrative. c!Dream and c!Wilbur and c!Tommy are absolutely crucial in each other’s character arcs, and you can’t really understand any of the duo relationships without considering the third (says the person guilty of writing c!Dreambur fanworks without always thinking about c!Tommy lmao, but hey at least it’s not analysis, right?) but that’s also a post for another day).

I never really know how to conclude things. I’m kind of worried I’m forgetting stuff, and I apologize if I did forget stuff, but I’ve been working on this for, like, 4 and a half hours and am getting tired lmao. But my main points are that L’manberg was satirizing and criticizing nationalism, that the concept of nationalism stuck with the SMP until the very end, and that the concept of nationalism from the beginning set up c!Dream to be the villain (and, really, this is largely in part because L’manberg from the beginning set up c!Dream to be a villain, and I don’t think you can feasibly separate L’manberg from nationalism). Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk! Feel free to ask questions and discuss further, and I will do my best to respond lol.

[frankensteins-mt-dew]

Little things I loved in Haunted Mansion (2023)

I just saw Haunted Mansion for a second time, and yall,it's good. The way they were able to blend the horror with the goofy and make it feel like the ride. amazing.

(Spoilers under the cut) here's all the little things I loved about the movie

1- this ones probably not anything but a coincidence but when Ben and Alyssa first meet the streamers are placed between them. I grew up Mormon (its complicated now) and whenever we drew the veil between life and death it was always a bunch of squiggly lines, like the streamers. Idk if that's like a thing in other religions too but I just thought it was interesting.

2- Gabby straight up saying "Nah. We're out." The second she noticed the spooky shit. Its an accurate and appropriate response that's not really used in this genre.

3- on that note I love the idea that they were basically forced to come back/stay. It advances the narrative and keeps them at the setting but it's not a bottle episode. Or movie.

4- Forced 👏 proximity 👏found👏family. They're all in the same room like 90% of the time no matter where they're at. And when they split the party for too long shit goes down.

5- Ben talking about his wife and his grief. The whole scene with him telling his friends about her and how she died, and Bruce almost immediately making a probably not appropriate joke that just made everyone laugh. It felt so real, like a real conversation. And the ghost winks. I have definently had those in my life but never had a name for it

6- Also the way they talk about grief?! Howthey show different characters dealing with it. How no matter who it is its like "you're hurting.it's ok. Let's get through it together" amazing.

7- The entire cast brought their A game in this movie. They knew what kind of movie this was and totally went with it

8- They ride references were amazing. The stretching room. the doom buggy chair. The forever hallway. Constance Hatchaway. Gracey. THE HAT BOX GHOST. Crump being the last name of one of the imagineers and his manor looking like the ride in wdw.

9- The music was so good! The jazz influence. SUPERSTITION. Grim Grinning Ghosts being prominent but not overwhelming. I wish the ending song was longer though.

10- the way they showed the passage of time with the moon phases and different outifts

11- Gabby and Ben's relationship remaining undefined. Imo this was not the time for them to get together, at least not immediately, what with (gestures broadly to everything) going on. The flowers he gives her at the end could be a romantic gesture or one of friendship and gratitude. I like that whatever ishappening between them is taking its time, because its something they both need.

I know there's something I'm forgetting but I cant think of it now so if I remember it I'll add it later. I hope more people go to see it I would love to see a sequel. Maybe they explore phantom manor or mystic manor (actually I dont remember if that one actually has any ties to the other mansions/manors)

[alexbrunn]

i loved your pav and marcoh role reversal au art so much!! do you have any more ideas about this au?? for example, does pav have any mob ties here? does marcoh want to kill the kaiser? or do they have entirely different goals / backstories? it's such an interesting premise!

I apologize for the long reply, I had a lot of time to think about this AU because I thought just switching characters around was too boring. I wanted something big, something that would affect the whole world.

You can judge for yourself how good and well thought out I've gotten, as for me, this idea still needs a lot of time to become something more serious. Plus, I haven't touched any of the characters except Pav and Marcoh (and those who are related to them in one way or another), all the other Termina members are unfortunately not involved in the idea yet.

Pav: Oh, you got a big gun like that in your pants?

The only thing that was important to me was to keep Le'Garde's importance throughout the story, because for all my love of Riccardo, he doesn't pull for someone as significant.

A time of crazy theories and crazy thoughts.

It all started when Le'Garde, instead of taking the throne in Bremen and creating Logic, decides to go the other way. He'll find out about the Sulfur God, that it's the second essence of Alll-Mer, and what's not the perfect field for his plan? If it is a part of Alll-Mer, it must be just as powerful to realize his ideas. He learns about all this in the Vatican, the capital of religions, and decides to stay there to realize his plan. Instead of politics and other public activities, he goes underground, because only from there he can learn all the darkest deeds of the Ministry of Magic and the Church, while doing other less important activities inherent in the criminal world. It comes to the point that the entire Vatican is now in his power and neither the government nor the clergy are his orders. If he wants, he will pull the strings and the vector of religious life of all mankind will change, which is gradually happening, when values are replaced by others and everything is slowly moving towards his goal of uniting mankind. Already every self-respecting believer is ready to join the crusade to Prehevil to free the second face of Alll-Mer. All those who thought otherwise were destroyed, first secretly, as if it were a showdown with the mafia, and then publicly, as heretics.

Pav's family was one of those destroyed as dissenters to the new religious dogma. The only one who survives is Pav, he vows revenge on whoever did this. His little investigation leads him first into the Mafia, and step by step he gets closer and closer to knowing that behind this is not a simple lust for money, revenge or anything else that is common in the underworld, but something more.

His character doesn't change, however given the circumstances, I feel like he would be even more self-indulgent. Even more open and swaggering, he would really like the world he is in, he doesn't feel that it was the mafia that ruined his family, he already knows there is much more behind it. In the long run, he's thinking about not just killing Kaiser, he'd love to take his place in the sun, or rather in the shade.

He probably wouldn't be in the ring much because he's not really built for it. If he does get invited, he never fights fair, he's the one who hides brass knuckles in his gloves and gets away with it for good work on the street. He's a beast out there, a guy as skillful as he is: agile, fast, dodgy, hardly had many wounds, except for two bullet wounds.

And Pav's story doesn't change, because when he learns that the boss is going to Prehevil to get the Sulfur God, he rushes off to get it himself.

As for Marcoh's story. Riccardo becomes emperor, though his role is not so significant. He follows the course already chosen by the Vatican's shadow government and the Kaiser as its leader. He is forced to go to war, because he will get money and territories, when the Kaiser himself feeds the Sulfur God with the suffering caused by the war.

With Marcoh, however, things are much simpler. They have never crossed paths in their lives, only a compulsory conscription law forces Marcoh, for all his aversion to violence, to join the army. Otherwise, his sister will suffer when her brother is killed for failing to fulfill his duty to his homeland. Worried for his sister's well-being, he asks her to move to a calmer and more peaceful region and promises to come back for her.

His psyche can't take it, he can't kill people without feeling guilty for each one, which causes him to run away from the army and end up in Prehevil.

[rubbish-and-whatnot]

Hello, can i request a Yandere Eyeless Jack but the MC works for a different entity? Would they clash or just passive? It's up to you if you want to make the MC human or whatever you want.

If possible, i want the mc to be completely devoted to the entity they're working on, they work for it willingly and have accepted it whole heartedly. Bye i asked for too much 🥰.

Eyeless Jack x rival! cultist! reader

(unedited) I had some fun writing this one. I may have taken a few liberties here and there. Let me know what you think! I have extra time away from work for requests because of Hurricane Debby. Thanks Debra <3

The restraints on the hospital bed were a little tighter than comfortable. You thrashed around nevertheless trying to at the very least loosen them enough to slip through. When that didn’t work you screamed out in white hot anger. 

“Let me go! This isn’t fair,” You cried out to your captor who was just casually sipping his coffee and doing his crossword puzzle at his desk. 

“Do you renounce your allegiances to… what’s his face?” He waved his pencil around in the air as if to find the blank in his mind. 

“Of course not! He is my life. He is my blood! He-“

“Then no. I’m not letting you out of those restraints until you are fully deprogrammed,” he flipped the page and sighed. 

Eyeless jack. A formidable foe who works under the being called The Operator. In the past year you’ve made a group of amazing and trustworthy friends. Found yourself living in a new community. Cut your ties with your family. Made an excellent relationship with the prophet. Really threw yourself into your faith. Jack, however, has been on your trail every turn. Every book club, every fundraiser, every hunt he was there. Being a devout follower meant a very healthy social life, don’t ya know?

“How is my thing all that different from your thing?! We’re both just putting in the work for a cause we believe in,” You stop thrashing to take a breath. He snapped his magazine shut and spun around on his chair. 

“It couldn’t be more different. I am bound to my entity, you’re trapped by your own mind,” he placed his hands firmly on the guards on either side of your bed, “If one of us can actually be free then I will find away. Until then it’s restraints and force-fed meals for you.”

“You are so stubborn!” You hollered. 

“Said the cultist,” he replied. 

“I am not in a cult.” You said defensively for the billionth time. 

“Oh really. Then why do you follow what the prophet says so seriously?” 

“Because it’s a sin not to. Those who don’t trust the prophet are punished by the community, they are the conduits for Thalorgorath’s will.”

“See that is something that was drilled into you verbatim. Most people don’t take their religion that intensely. Also most religions don’t punish the non-believers by using people they thought they could trust,” Jack wrestled with one of the guards to slide it down into place and take a seat on the edge of your bed. “You used to be so full of life. The way you would laugh with your whole chest. I remember how you would sing at the top of your lungs with the radio blasting and the windows down. You glowed,” Jack took a strand of hair and rolled and twisted it around his gloved fingers. Your sparkle had dimmed so immensely since you joined that cult. You’re paler, more solemn, all seriousness and gloom. 

Jack was stationed to work mostly in a specific small town, your small town. He saw you before and after. Now, it really did help that you began to interfere with his work. That’s the only reason he can have you here now. You were looking for a sacrifice for your god and half the time that just so happened to be Jack’s next target. So your paths began to cross regularly. You would always flee the scene in a villainous ‘I’ll get you next time for sure!’ kind of fashion. As time passed and you kept returning empty handed you began to get more and more desperate. You began to waste away. 

“I brought you here because I care about you more than anyone in your community ever could. Their love is conditional on how devout a follower you are. I like you just the way you are. Good. Evil. Atheist. Cultist. I just want the real you back,” he sighed. 

You shuffled uncomfortably. The memories of before, seeing Jack and talking with him, sharing a coffee with him on the outskirts of the woods. They were comforting and feeling awfully compelling in this moment. There was a time you thought you might’ve liked Jack yourself. But that’s all in the past. A life of sin you must spend the rest of your life atoning for. 

“She’s dead.” You spat. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” He let go of your hair and started rifling in his pockets, “If your prophet were so holy then explain this,” he laid out several polaroids of the man in question. Him living in a lavish house paid for by all the tithes that were so important. Him indulging in the sin of the flesh again and again and again, coercing members and sex workers into doing exactly what he wanted. Him with his stockpile of illusionist supplies for his miracles. Even a picture of him sitting on his couch with his legs propped up on the coffee table on top of the holy text. And one of him spilling his beer on it. We weren’t even allowed to drink alcohol. It was considered contraband that was worth ten lashings. 

You just sat there and stared at them, your brain doing figure eights trying to make sense of it, and not liking that it kept coming to the same conclusion. 

“I don’t want to look at these,” You clamped your eyes shut and turned your head. Some jostling around your bed didn’t make you open your eyes but the sound of tape being ripped of the dispenser did. Jack stood on the mattress and taped the polaroids so they’d hang down from the ceiling right in your line of sight. 

“It sounds like they’re working then. I’m going to keep these up until I get new ones. But for now,” he hopped off and dusted off his hands, “It’s time for lunch. I’ll grab you a sandwich and juice,” he waved on his way out the door. You sunk deeper in bed and blew some hair out of your face. 

Jack often slept in the infirmary so this wasn’t much different. Now though he found himself watching you sleep rather than his usual ritual of tea and a book before bed. There was plenty of time for that during the day. This was the only time he could look at you without your harsh glare stabbing back. There’s no cult. There’s no hate. There’s just a guy looking at the women he can’t stop thinking about. Jack pulled up his mask and kissed your forehead before switching the lamp off. 

It was rainy. Weeks have passed now. You wouldn’t talk much at all anymore. You just watched weather pass out the window, maybe the occasional deer or cryptid. It was so hard to believe in a world where all of that impossible bullshit exists, to comprehend that the one thing you truly believed in was a sham. Your days were mostly you and your bed and two walks (handcuffed to Jack) to keep your muscles in functioning condition. Eerily enough, you stopped putting up a fight. So here you sat. Still and lost in your own mind. Jack would glance up from his book every now and then to look at you. The rain pattered against the window that was open just a crack, just enough to smell just a hint of petrichor. 

“Do you remember that first night that I almost found my sacrifice?” You asked wistfully, watching the droplets merge and plummet to the edge of the pane. 

“Uh… yeah. He was my next target. Didn’t put up much of a fight since you scared him real bad before I even got there,” He turned another page. 

“And you tossed me behind you so you could get to him first,” You laughed a meek little chuckle. 

“I didn’t realize that you fell on the ground. Then you grabbed my ankles taking me down with you,” He laughed too. 

“We were slathered in mud and dead leaves,” You began to laugh harder. 

“It got in your mouth too. I remember you trying to spit it out,” He smiled a the memory. 

“…I’m starting to wonder what it was all for,” you returned to your previous state of sitting upright and staring out the window.

“A stupid man with a god complex got in your head. It happens to the best of us. I’m just glad there was no Koolaid involved,” He cradled his chin with his interlaced fingers. 

“Flavoraid.”

“Huh?”

“It was Grape Flavoraid in Jonestown. Not Koolaid.”

Jack woke up with a startle and saw your bed empty and the restraints cut through. It had been several months and you had made excellent progress. Still you didn’t talk much, but when you did It wasn’t nearly as crazy as you’ve sounded in the past.  

He was so close to trusting you enough to let you go, but was it all a lie? Were you faking it to just run back to your community? Was everything you both worked through a ruse? He threw the blankets off the bed. Wretched the closet door open and slammed it shut. In his frenzy he didn’t notice the steam coming out from under the bathroom door. 

You opened and stepped out of the bathroom and continued to towel dry your hair. Jane had lent you some of her clothes, which were more risqué than you’ve worn in years (that’s not saying much though. It was a very modest community you lived in). Jane was a firm believer in if you got it flaunt it. She was just helping you along. Either way you paired the black slip with a sweater underneath for maximum comfort. You pressed the pedal to the trash can and dropped your old cloak into it. 

“Y/n?” Jack stood still and gaped at you. 

“Hey,” you dropped your towel onto the bed and began to make it. 

“Are you… feeling alright?” 

“I feel… different,” you walk up to him and take his hands into yours, “I’ve been thinking about it and I wanted to say thank you. You believed in me even when I didn’t,” you tried not to sound emotional but it came through in croaks and cracks in your soft voice. He felt you press something into his hands and curl his fingers around it. You walked up to the doors and hoisted up the duffel bag he didn’t notice there. In his hand was an old, used, wooden coffee stirrer, one that’s branded with the initials of the cafe you would buy both of your coffees from. 

“You’re leaving? So soon?” He followed you out of the infirmary and down the hall. 

“I need time to figure the rest out. You brought me to the water and now it’s time for me to take initiative and drink,” You adjusted the strap on your shoulder. The duffel was filled to the brim with supplies you scrounged up from all over the house. Nothing that would be missed. 

“But there’s always space for you here. Even if you aren’t with me in the infirmary we can set up a room for you. Just for you! We can put anything you could want or need in it,” He snatched your arm, you stopped in your tracks. 

“Jack. I need to start fresh. I want a new town and a new name. I want something normal. Uncomplicated,” You grimaced. He took a long pause mostly because of the frog in his throat. 

“Then I’ll make it easy for you,” he handcuffed his wrist to yours. “We’re in this together. Whether you like it or not,” his voice was more grave than you’ve ever heard it before. 

[deathsbestgirl]

In my mind, I've always considered Scully to have a difficult relationship with desire. She feels it--deeply, intensely--but she feels it's too revealing to own up to. The greater she desires someone, the harder it is to confess to this out loud/publicly. It feels incredibly intimate, almost too exposing to bear. What are your thoughts on this? How would you describe her relationship with desire?

ohhh! i love this question, it's something i think about a lot. i don't think i quite have a clear cut answer. i agree completely with what you say. scully feels very deeply and that definitely extends to desire and love, which is something i have a hard time integrating with her religion.

scully believes in god but she drifts from it & the church throughout the series and goes back to it, it's a pretty consistent thing she experiences. and something i've always loved about her faith is how private & personal it is to her. she wears her cross because maggie gave it to her. sometimes i think of it as something she bears. but she does believe, it's just still hard for her.

now, i'm not religious, i didn't grow up religious. but my wife did and so did one of my friends. and their experiences are wildly different. there are some sects where you do not question god, the bible, the church. but there are others where they encourage, to really learn it & understand it and build a relationship with god (to my very small understanding??) and i imagine scully was allowed to question. she talks about prayer as a conversation with god, and just. the way she lives i don't think her belief of/in god aligns with the church and is part of her drifting from the church and fighting it at different points. (all this basically to say, i don't think she sees any of it as sin or against her beliefs/religion.)

and openly expressing it, i feel a lot of it is tied to knowing where the other person stands and her insecurities. like she can show mulder such love & care in specific ways (the doctoring, the support she gives him in demons, etc) and even ask him to get out of the car (their odd little communications lol) but taking the leap? it scares her. giving herself completely is terrifying to her, especially when she's already given so much of herself. i think it's actually very consuming to her and the breadth of it is what scares her, what she's capable of.

like the closest she gets with mulder is detour and he ran, and she never does something so overt again. but with jerse, she didn't have a problem. she wasn't looking for something lasting. there was desire, and rebellion. but not love, not something deep or life changing. even with daniel, she might have been able to fall back into something with him but ... that would have been "easy" and scully doesn't choose the easy thing. she chooses mulder and the x files every time. her experience with daniel in all things is what helps her come to terms with her choices & desires.

i always come back to scully's "always the strong one" and she hides her vulnerability. i think of mulder as her conduit for vulnerability & compassion. because she cares as much as he does but she keeps it locked up, private as much as she possibly can. she loves her family but she doesn't confide in them about big important things (mulder is the one who calls maggie when she has cancer & decides to get treatment, wetwired was an anomaly of her extreme paranoia toward mulder aka the only person she trusts).

so i just find it very hard to unravel with scully. it's something so layered and kind of contradictory. but it's also so clearly intense & deep. when they're finally together and mulder is abducted, the depth of her pain can't be hidden. she rails at doggett but sobs in his arms. skinner feels incredible guilt for having lost mulder, cries when he tells scully, fights for what he knows to be the truth and scully pulls him back just by gently touching his arm. in season nine, she writes with such beautiful heartfelt intensity, no one has any doubt of what mulder is to her. she reaches a point that it doesn't matter what people know or don't know, she can no longer contain it in that tiny body of hers. after all things (and even before that, in smaller but still very noticeable ways) it pours out of her.

and actually, this made me think about emily. when she talks about holding people at a distance because she is so aware of death & loss that connection almost seems fruitless. i think we talk a lot about how mulder can't lose scully, but it's equally true for scully. the idea of loving him completely and losing him crushes her. and we get to see her without him in s8&9 and she really is barely holding it together. i genuinely think the only thing that kept her going was william and the minuscule possibility that he would come back. be returned to her like she was to him. she had to believe that would happen because the alternative was too scary to believe. and then she still had to go through his death. she had to bury him while carrying his child. (and she already had gotten a taste of losing him in field trip, and she completely lost it in her hallucinations too, before they were ever "really" together.)

i don't know what exactly i mean by all of this. but i don't think it's desire she really struggles with, i think it's her intensity. the lengths she'll go to because of it. what she's capable of because of it. the possibility of loss she can't bear and doesn't want to burden someone else with either. but it's something she can't walk away from, can't abandon when it's expressed to her or it's her "only" chance.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

you asked for arranged! childhood asks so i was wondering if maybe we could see martha trying to protect arranged! reader in any way she can while not clueing her family in that she knows something sinister happens behind closed doors.

She never really got a chance to do that. She was always nice to her when she saw her, but. There wasn't enough time for her to insert herself into things enough to prevent or change anything. Here's this tho. Because angst.

Bruce waited patiently. He didn't want you driving. Not right now. There was a brittle, frail quality to the artwork he'd peeked at recently and- he wasn't sure but. He was willing to bet it was an indication of your mental state.

He'd not been inside a church really since his parent's funeral. Any church. And he knew he'd never been in this one before. The Cathedral.

You were talking to a priest. Or at least you had been. Now you were lighting a candle. He didn't know you were religious. Or perhaps- it wasn't religion on your own behalf but- just respect for Sister Mary Cathrine.

Tomorrow, you were going to the sisters. He was going to put you on the plane himself. And Bruce would follow behind when Batman tied up the last thread of a case.

"My son-"

"I'm not Catholic, Father," Bruce corrected.

"No one's perfect," The older man said, his weathered face relaxing into a smile.

Bruce snorted and held out his hand, "Thank you for seeing her so late."

"Of course," he said. "I baptized her and gave her her first communion. She was missed when her parents sent her away to school."

"How is she handling-"

"I can't break the seal of confession even for you," he said. "But I think I can reasonably say that she's heartbroken."

Bruce nodded, wincing. "I'm sending her to the Sisters tomorrow-"

"I think that may help. I was relieved when her parents at least sent her to a school run by the church. At least there her soul would be cared for."

Bruce nodded again, keeping his thoughts to himself. That they sent you somewhere restrictive to keep you under control. Clearly, someone had given you some sort of affection. When you'd been too upset to coordinate with them and Bruce had taken the phone gently, they'd been relieved you were coming at all. And that was something.

When you stood from where you were sitting and made your way towards them, Bruce stood too. Not sure if you'd actually want him to touch you or not. He hesitated, deciding to hover close to you. Being protective seeming without interrupting you. At least until it was time to go and he offered you his arm.

[flanaganfilm]

Hey Mike, can you talk about your work on Revival? What was it like reading the book, writing the script, making it all work? I know people thought it was going to be like Midnight Mass, but King is tackling religion far differently & I would have loved to see your adaptation of that. Furthermore, why did you decide to leave the project? I read somewhere it had to do with the film rights, but I’m sure there’s more to that story & id love to hear your side of it.

Also, Life of Chuck…. 1.85:1 or Scope? C’mon, Mike! Spill the beans!

Thanks!

I was very excited about Revival. King had given me the rights after I finished the script for Doctor Sleep, and we took it around town as a pitch. Warner Bros. picked up the project and commissioned the script.

I wrote a script I love, and turned it in to Warner Bros. It couldn't be more different than Midnight Mass; that was always a very weird and unfair comparison. The only thing they have in common is that each story features a priest; any comparisons wouldn't have survived opening weekend, that was never really a thing.

Revival is one of King's scariest and most effective books, and I was madly in love with the movie. I stayed very true to the book, and the story spanned over decades. It was a character-forward epic about mortality, and the futility of hope, dealing with themes of lost love, addiction, and hubris. In fact, it has way more in common with Frankenstein than Midnight Mass, and I was stoked to make it. It wasn't cheap, though - the set pieces were big, the VFX budget was intimidating, and it fit into a type of budget that isn't typically made these days.

For those reasons, ultimately, after Doctor Sleep's disappointing performance at the box office, Warner Bros. didn't want to pursue the movie. They had really liked the Frankenstein comparisons, but that only comes into play at the very end of the story. Their pitch was to start the story there, and jettison most of the actual novel in favor of a new, heavily Frankenstein inspired narrative. It was a bridge too far, and changed the source material too radically.

Warner Bros. faith in the project had been seriously damaged by the box office performance of Doctor Sleep, and the character-forward epic I was pitching was just too risky given the hefty price tag. Ultimately, I wasn't willing to change the story as drastically as they wanted to, and it just didn't make sense to make it for that budget - so they opted not to make the film, and that was that. I didn't leave the project at all - the studio just didn't want to move forward with it. Revival is not the most obvious project. It is more expensive than a lot of comparable horror titles, and we didn't want to do it as a streaming movie - we bet the farm on a theatrical feature, and the cards didn't fall in our favor this time. My window of availability as a director rapidly closed. I was heading fast into Midnight Club and Fall of the House of Usher for Netflix, so without a viable attachment from me for at least a few years, the project couldn't move forward at all, and the rights reverted back to Stephen King. We discussed whether we wanted to try to keep it alive, but we were already deep into talks about The Dark Tower, whose rights were about to become available after years of being tied up. Steve doesn't like to give the same person multiple rights as a general rule, because he doesn't want his projects to stall out in development, which makes good sense. Given the choice, we absolutely wanted to focus on The Dark Tower. We let Revival go, and last I heard, some other people were developing it as a TV project. I absolutely love the script I wrote, and I'm disappointed that Warner Bros. didn't want to make it, but it's their studio and their prerogative. I can't say I blame their reasoning. In fact, I completely see their point. I could have dug in and fought harder to keep it, but that might mean I wouldn't have gotten the rights to The Dark Tower.

And I hate to say it, but Revival would have taken a similar narrative approach to Doctor Sleep, and - well - audiences just didn't show up for that movie. It's entirely likely that the same would have happened here - this was another long, character-centric story that wasn't entirely a mainstream horror tale, and it was expensive. And this didn't have The Shining connection to lean on. I am so sorry to say this, but I don't have a lot of faith that audiences would have supported us if we'd bet the farm on a theatrical release of Revival as I wanted to make it. So honestly, I think it all worked out for the best. You win some and you lose some in this business. Who knows, maybe it'll come back some day - I also lost the rights to Gerald's Game back in 2014 when we couldn't find a partner who wanted to make the movie. They eventually came around again, and the timing worked out. The same could happen here - maybe we get another chance, or may we revisit it down the line as a limited series. Stranger things have happened. Ka is a wheel. Or, maybe this new television production of Revival will get off the ground, and if it does I wish them nothing but the best with it. It's a phenomenal story, and I'll be first in line to see it.

[weirdfreakshow]

BACK WITH GOONETTE ASKS‼️‼️‼️

just... goonette bad boys, i really need them. they are my religion

thinking about how in LimL they probably just all jerked each other off on the Bad Boy Mansion roof for everyone to see. the three of them are literally horny exhibitionists who get off on being degraded <3

tim definitely exchanged time for orgasms, that's why he was first out. he has no self-restraint whatsoever, i swear, just begging people to kill him so that he could cum like....... uuugh. imagine the mean gills spitroasting him, making fun of his useless baby wings, being soo ruthless to tim. they drug him with potions until he's all weak and nauseous and unable to fight back then use him like a cocksleeve for hours before finishing him off as he cums. they don't even let him cum fully, they ruin his orgasm just as one of them lands the final hit,,, so mean but tim really doesn't deserve to have a full orgasm!! or else he'll stop being dumb and horny for once and no one will whore around the server and be the server gloryhole everyone cums in :(

tim also rides grian and joel,,, tim just sinks himself onto any cock that's hard, he's soo desperate and addicted to pleasure he can't live without it <3 he's soo far gone too, loves taking potions of weakness to feel fuzzy and braindead while he goons. it's soo hot to see him so ruined !! i swear

i also think grian and joel love teasing tim by putting on a show for him while he's all tied up, unable to touch himself !! the both of them make out sloppy style while humping each other like desperate dogs and tim gets soo turned on just from seeing them make out... they call people over too sometimes, make tim watch the both of them get dicked down by cleo's strap until tim cums handsfree (and then they get to make fun of him and call him a pathetic prejac boy. win-win if you ask me tbh)

joel definitely gooned for hours in the bad boy mansion imagining he's riding etho after etho killed him btw. because that shit was,,,,,, eugh.

- 🌾

This is, holy shit. These are toe-curling thoughts. I'm. I.m. speechless. 🌾 your mind is beyond me . I won't even wait to think of a good response to post this because I just want ppl to read it idk. I love your brain

[omgkalyppso]

So I really enjoyed the Orc Heritage Armour questline. After getting into dragonflight and Alexstrasza, Kalecgos and Khadgar kind of acting like they'd never met Borgakh (again), being welcomed and greeted by Thrall / Go'el and his family was so fucking delightful.

I'm going to post the screenshots from the final cutscene first and then a few more things with commentary below the cut.

-

Be warned it's long. You can press J to skip it on desktop if you open and change your mind.

-

Tbh, having not played dragonflight I thought they were about to throw Eitrigg into the Nathanos role and this was going to be related to world quests. I'm glad it wasn't. Eitrigg's history makes me uncomfortable.

I care them.

While I kind of wish they'd let Drek'thar cast from his wheelchair, it's also interesting to think of him having some mobility.

I know some people really don't like Aggra, but I have and do, and I found this delightful. A circle completed.

All the little moments with Durak were very sweet. Very grounding after other story elements in the main plot have gotten so convoluted and absurd.

Thank you, Rexxar, for also recognizing a title (Huntmaster). I was really thrown when Khadgar was back to calling you Adventurer and not either Champion, Hero, or My Friend — too open ended for people new to the game!! ^^;

I go back and forth with the Countess from the Court of Harvesters and Huntmaster titles when I run around with Borgakh because while I still hate shadowlands for what it did to the various in game religions (and the orcs especially since I'm biased) I think these titles would mean a lot to her. To be acknowledged and given the promise of authority / contribution / significance wrt Countess, and to be acknowledged by her peers wrt Huntmaster, which is also tied up in my favorite expansion and all the seeds of Horde and Alliance working to a better future together.

When it came to choosing a clan, I imagined Borgakh sharing a look with Aggra about how it was "obvious" that now, given the choice, that she would follow Thrall / Go'el anywhere. But unlike how it presents the player character as having never belonged to a clan, Borgakh has been for Years, headcanoned as part of the Warsong clan. I felt it added depth and weight to her struggles.

And then not only did Thrall / Go'el have The Weakest pitch for joining his clan (undoubtedly because they knew he and the Frost Wolves were going to sweep anyway), but I got to the choice screen and imagined the question for Borgakh as being, "But would I give up a core part of my identity for you?"

She is still part of his Horde, and she would die for him and his family, but I decided to keep her a member of the Warsong clan.

Borgakh has had maxed cooking in this game for like, ever. And that the final trial was to prepare a meal as an offering for her ancestors was something I really enjoyed. That the cookbook included a spicy as hell recipe from the Warsong was a bonus and reaffirmed my enjoyment of maintaining her membership with her clan.

I really appreciated this. After shadowlands? Bring me back to the uncertainty and faith of the past wrt what happens after death and the peace and connection with those lost and those who remain.

That this quest began with the premise that the orcs felt disconnected from each other and their culture and clans and this gathering and a new ceremony to replace the old coming of age ones that an orc could take part in regardless of age was very sweet. I have so many more screenshots of all the smaller npc's and things they've said in case I want to revisit it either for myself or for fic writing in the future. Loved it.

Thank you if you read my rambling.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

(Hi!! I really like your blog)

A thought for perusal: Do you think removing most of the religious conflict for 2004 N&S robbed viewers of too much thematically? I also wonder if you have any ideas how it could have been worked in more, given the time constraints?

Hiii!!! It's always a joy seeing you in my notes!

I'm not sure, to be honest. I think Gaskell's Unitarianism makes it so that she doesn't really have any big Theological Hot TakesTM that are crucial for understanding the text, the way Universalism is important to Anne Brontë's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, or Evangelicalism is to Jane Eyre, or even a certain Pietism one finds in Alcott's Little Women.

Mr. Hale becoming a dissenter is more about plot functionality than anything else, even/specially if you consider it in comparison with Mr. Benson in Ruth (where his dissenting character informs so much of what Gaskell has to say there about Christian Morality) and Mr. Holman in Cousin Phillis (where his dissenting character informs to a good extent the life and education he has provided Phillis with). If anything Mr. Hale becomes a dissenter not because he's convinced that this or that dissenting tenet is right, but because he's become unconvinced that this or that Anglican tenet is right.

(As a side note, apparently it was one of Dickens "strong recommendations" that Gaskell make the reveal of Mr. Hale's doubts as quick and as vague as possible. So for everyone that starts reading the novel and wonders "but what where his doubts?" you can blame Dickens for that XD)

The other part where religion is important in N&S is Margaret's lie; it is a crisis for her because it is the one action she cannot justify herself away, AND she experiences it as faithlessness, and Gaskell elaborates some argument around the idea of humble repentance and being kind and patient with one's soul -the reference to St. Francis of Sales, the paradigmatic saint of overcoming scruples with immense trust in Divine Mercy AND of conquering the spiritual life with gentleness, humility and firm kindness seems very pointed to me that way... but, honestly, how do you even translate that to the screen? Most if not all academic readings of the text so far consider it a given that Margaret's guilt about the lie is just psychosexual displacement of shame tied to the idea that she's been sexually sullied in Thornton's mind because he saw her with Frederick at the train station, and nothing more. So I think it is actually a mercy that the miniseries sort of sidesteps the whole thing XD

There are other things that were ignored or changed from the text that I think are much more essential to the themes of the novel, such as a fairer dealing with the pros and cons of both North and South (the series omits the bad South things and the good North things), and Margaret's Cromer holiday as the turning point where she heals enough to take her life in her own hands and shake off the controlling behaviors or her relatives, and so come into her own as a woman -which is the thing that makes possible her acceptance of marriage with Thornton in the end.