#astonishing sculptor

[lamarchesacasati]

Prince Paolo Petrovich Troubetzkoy (Italian 1866-1938), Bronze Sculpture Marchesa Luisa Casati with Greyhound, 1914.

Prince Paolo Petrovich Troubetzkoy was an artist and a sculptor who was described by George Bernard Shaw as "the most astonishing sculptor of modern times".

[avelera]

Let's Play: What's Wrong with this Sculpture?

Following in the theme of sharing astonishing moments of ancient sculpture pedantry here on Tumblr, based on my brief undergraduate stint as a T.A of ancient art history, I thought I'd share one of my other proudest moments of being an absolutely insufferable know-it-all about ancient sculptures.

In the process, I hope I can also share some of the sort of largely useless (from a practical perspective) information that Tumblr tends to glory in, so buckle up buttercups.

This question was posed to me on a walking tour of the Capitoline Museum in my ancient art history class while I was living abroad. Our professor, a delightfully curmudgeonly Belgian, stopped in front and asked us to figure out why this sculpture is just plain wrong.

I intend to walk you through the process of how I got the right answer and, after gaining my teacher's rare approval, glowed with enough serotonin to power a small nuclear reactor.

So, let's return to the original question: what is wrong with this sculpture?

Because if you are truly eagle-eyed you should be able to spot what very famous sculpture this actually is, before an overly imaginative Frenchman brought it back wrong.

Hint #1: It was incorrectly restored.

Look closely at the the difference of the patina, or color of the stone. It's a bit hard to tell in this photo, but the head was added later. It's a paler white than the core of the torso, which is what we have of the original sculpture.

Hint #2: It was incorrectly restored in the 18th century by a Frenchman (Pierre-Étienne Monnot) who made some, shall we say, creative interpretations of what's going on here.

You can tell it's by an 18th c. Frenchman because the facial features are so delicate. Ancient statues tend to have less narrow and delicate chins and noses. In general, that is a dead giveaway when something is 18th century French vs. Ancient Greek or Roman.

Here's a good example. The first sculpture is 18th c. French, the second is the famous Venus de Milo. Note her blockier chin and less delicate features. So in the future, you can tell these sort of later additions to Greek or Roman sculptures if they added a new head because 17-19th century sculptors in Europe had tools (like finer drill tips) and tastes (beauty standards that favored more delicate men and women) that led to a pronounced difference in the faces.

Hint #3: Check out the anatomy of his lower shoulder. That's another addition, that arm should not be coming straight out of a torso where the muscle, if you look closely, is turned inward.

Seriously, that looks painful.

Hint #4: The sword he's holding up is just total nonsense for the Roman era. I mean, the restoration makes no secret of the fact that this sword is a later addition, but it's also just an absolute nonsense sword with its silly little curved cross guard. This Frenchman literally just made it up.

Here's an ancient sculpture with a sword in it that actually looks right:

From the Ludovisi Gaul, a famous Hellenistic Baroque work of Greek sculpture. Note the much blockier sword though I will admit, it could be a later addition, I don't know for 100% certain, but I'm pretty sure it's the original. Regardless, it fits the sculpture much better and let me add that sword I'm criticizing is completely made up for the sculpture we're talking about and is not there in the original sculpture that was incorrectly restored.

Ok, so those are all the hints.

Look closely at the body of the first sculpture. Cut away the arms that are not connected to the body correctly, the sword that shouldn't be there, the face that was far too delicate. When you separate those later additions out, can you tell me what sculpture that actually is?

Because here is the reveal!

The Discus Thrower, aka, the Discobolus by Myron.

The French restorationist got carried away by his own imagination, saw a twisted torso and thought it could only possibly be a warrior in the midst of twisting around to fend off a blow, not an athlete in the midst of a demonstration of skill. It's a martial, fanciful read that completely misinterpreted the subject.

This is why most restoration today employs a much lighter touch, rather than trying to reattach pieces incorrectly, they tend to just outline where the missing pieces are with a light sketch of an educated guess of what might have actually been there. Faulty restorations like the Capitoline Discobolus is one reason for this modern stylistic principle when it comes to restoration work.

When my professor asked us to identify the correct original sculpture that day on the museum tour, it was the sword that pinged me as wrong first, but zeroing in on the core of the sculpture, the torso, is what revealed the true statue underneath.

This notoriously difficult to please professor was very proud when I blurted out, "It's the Discus Thrower!" and the high-octane serotonin I got from his approval probably could have propelled me into the sun that day, and brought to you Yet Another Moment of Ancient Sculpture Pedantry.

[incorrectbatfam]

sorry to bother but i was wondering if you have any comics you read when youre having a hard time? everything sucks rn my grades are shit my cat is sick my friends always hang out without me and i cant get my meds bc im at my dads place and he doesnt believe in mental health. i just scroll thru tumblr and shit bc idk what else to do anymore. sorry if im annoying ik im just a stranger so you can just ignore my rambling if you want

I'm sorry to hear you're going that. I don't know how you prefer to deal with things specifically, so I gathered some stuff that you can pick from depending on what you need.

If you want to laugh

Batman #147

Amazing Spider-Man #258

Super Sons vol. 1

Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy

Batman: Lil Gotham

World's Funnest

If you need to cry

Astonishing X-Men #1

Flashpoint #5

Loving Reaper

Adventure Comics #452

The Sculptor

Superman vol. 1 #712

If you're looking for a distraction

Watchmen

Vixen: NYC

The Walking Dead

Batman: Year One

Proctor Valley Road

Doom Patrol book 1

If you're seeking validation

DC Pride 2022

Black Panther and the Crew

Wayne Family Adventures #45-46

Ms. Marvel vol. 1

Birds of Prey #56-108

Lumberjanes

Finally, if you feel like you're out of options

Superman: Grounded

All-Star Superman #10

Captain America: A Little Help

Marvel Knights 4 #4

Deadpool #20

Robin #156

This one is always worth a try

[artsandculture]

View of Toledo (1599-1600) 🎨 El Greco 🏛️ The Metropolitan Museum of Art 📍 New York City, United States

Writing to the sculptor Auguste Rodin after having been astonished by this painting in Paris in 1908, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke described how “splintered light tills the ground, turning it over, tearing into it and bringing up here and there pale green meadows behind the trees standing like insomniacs.” Regarded as El Greco’s greatest landscape, it portrays Toledo, the city where he lived and worked for most of his life. But it is an emotive rather than a documentary vision that not only imaginatively revises the skyline—most notably, the cathedral has been moved—but also distorts architecture and landscape such that they are fully in service of the kind of drama Rilke and other modernists appreciated in his work.

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 11

1475 – Pope Leo X (d.1521), born Giovanni di Lorenzo de' Medici, was the Pope from 1513 to his death in 1521. He was the last non-priest (only a deacon) to be elected Pope. He is known for granting indulgences for those who donated to reconstruct St. Peter's Basilica and his challenging of Martin Luther's 95 Theses. He was the second son of Lorenzo de' Medici, the most famous ruler of the Florentine Republic, and Clarice Orsini. His cousin, Giulio di Giuliano de' Medici, would later succeed him as Pope Clement VII (1523-34).

Several modern historians have concluded that Leo was homosexual. Contemporary tracts and accounts such as that of Francesco Guicciardini have been found to allude to active same-sex relations - alleging Count Ludovico Rangone and Galeotto Malatesta were among his lovers.

Cesare Falconi has examined in particular Leo's infatuation with the Venetian noble Marcantonio Flaminio, with Leo arranging the best education that could be offered for the time. Von Pastor has argued, however, against the credibility of these testimonies, and rejected accusations of immorality as anti-papal polemic. Gucciardini was not resident at the papal court during Leo's pontificate, while other contemporaries such as Matteo Herculano took pains to praise his chastity. Paul Strathern, a British writer and academic, argues that Leo, while homosexual, was not sexually active as pope, despite identifying notable members of that family as such.

Jean Cocteau and Jean Marais

1913 – Jean Marais, French actor (d.1998); Marais was never much of an actor, and it is doubtful he would have achieved international fame had he not become Jean Cocteau's lover, but he was, by universal acclaim, one of the most handsome men ever to appear in films. In the 1940s when he made most of his movies for Cocteau, actors were still slicking down their hair with Kreml and Vitalis. But he changed all that. His cheveaux fous and athletic good looks created a new style of postwar leading man.

Cocteau and Marais

When in 1946 he spent his time in Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast, trapped within an ape-like constume, waiting for Beauty's kiss to turn him once again into Jean Marais, Gay moviegoers around the world secretly wished that they were Josette Day who actually got to kiss the handsome actor's furry face. What is perhaps most interesting about the friendship between Cocteau and Marais is that the actor's face in profile bore an astonishing resemblance to the boys Cocteau had been sketching for thirty years before meeting him.

In the 1960s, he played the famed villain of the Fantômas trilogy. After 1970, Marais's on-screen performances became few and far between, as he preferred concentrating on his stage work. He kept performing on stage until his eighties, also working as a sculptor. In 1985, he was the head of the jury at the 35th Berlin International Film Festival.

1945 – John Preston (d.1994) was an author of gay erotica and an editor of gay nonfiction anthologies.

He grew up in Medfield, Massachusetts, later living in a number of major American cities before settling in Portland, Maine in 1979. A writer of fiction and nonfiction, dealing mostly with issues in gay life, he was a pioneer in the early gay rights movement in Minneapolis. He helped found one of the earliest gay community centers in the United States, edited two newsletters devoted to sexual health, and served as editor of The Advocate in 1975.

He was the author or editor of nearly fifty books, including such erotic landmarks as Mr. Benson and I Once Had a Master and Other Tales of Erotic Love. Other works include Franny, the Queen of Provincetown (first a novel, then adapted for stage), The Big Gay Book: A Man's Survival Guide for the Nineties, Personal Dispatches: Writers Confront AIDS, and Hometowns: Gay Men Write About Where They Belong.

Preston's writing (which he described as pornography) was part of a movement in the 1970s and 1980s toward higher literary quality in gay erotic fiction. Preston was an outspoken advocate of the artistic and social worth of erotic writings, delivering a lecture at Harvard University entitled My Life as a Pornographer. The lecture was later published in an essay collection with the same name. The collection includes Preston's thoughts about the gay leather community, to which he belonged.

His writings caused controversy when he was one of several gay and lesbian authors to have their books confiscated at the border by Canada Customs. Testimony regarding the literary merit of his novel I Once Had a Master helped a Vancouver LGBT bookstore, Little Sister's Book and Art Emporium, to partially win a case against Canada Customs in the Canadian Supreme Court in 2000.

Preston also brought gay erotic fiction to mainstream readers by editing the Flesh and the Word anthologies for a major press.

Preston served as a journalist and essayist throughout his life. He wrote news articles for Drummer and other gay magazines, produced a syndicated column on gay life in Maine, and penned a column for Lambda Book Report called "Preston on Publishing." His nonfiction anthologies, which collected essays by himself and others on everyday aspects of gay and lesbian life, won him the Lambda Literary Award and the American Library Association's Stonewall Book Award. He was especially noted for his writings on New England.

In addition, Preston wrote men's adventure novels under the pseudonyms of Mike McCray, Preston MacAdam, and Jack Hilt (pen names that he shared with other authors). Taking what he had learned from authoring those books, he wrote the "Alex Kane" adventure novels about gay characters. These books, which included "Sweet Dreams," "Golden Years," and "Deadly Lies," combined action-story plots with an exploration of issues such as the problems facing gay youth.

Preston was among the first writers to popularize the genre of safe sex stories, editing a safe sex anthology entitled Hot Living in 1985. He helped to found the AIDS Project of Southern Maine. In the late 1980s, he discovered that he himself was HIV positive.

Some of his last essays, found in his nonfiction anthologies and in his posthumous collection Winter's Light, describe his struggle to come emotionally to terms with a disease that had already killed many of his friends and fellow writers.

He died of AIDS complications on April 28, 1994, aged 48, at his home in Portland.

1948 – Alvin Baltrop (d.2004) was a gay African-American photographer who earned fame through his photographs of the Hudson River piers during the 1970s and 1980s.

Baltrop was born in 1948 in the Bronx. He discovered his love of photography in junior high school. Baltrop received no formal art education; older photographers from the neighborhood taught him different techniques and how to develop photos himself.

Baltrop enlisted in the Navy as a medic during the Vietnam War and continued taking photos, mainly of his friends in sexually provocative poses. He built his own developing lab in the sick bay, using medic trays for developing trays. After his time in the Navy, Baltrop worked odd jobs as a street vendor, a jewelry designer, a printer, and a cab driver. Because he wanted to spend more time taking photos at the Hudson River piers, he quit his job as a cab driver to become a self-employed mover. He would park his van at the piers for days at a time, living out of his van to take pictures.

From 1975 through 1986, Baltrop took photographs of the West Side piers, where he was a well-known member of the community. Baltrop knew every person he photographed, and people often volunteered to be photographed. Younger boys and men at the piers often confided in him about their sexual orientation, their relationships with their families, their housing status, and their work.

Baltrop captured the gay cruising spots and hookup culture that existed in New York City before the AIDS epidemic. Baltrop's photographs not only captured human personalities, but also the aesthetics of the dilapidated piers. His life work is a snapshot of gay, African-American, and New York City history.

Baltrop struggled to make his way in the art world, facing racism from the white gay art world. Gay curators often rejected his work, accused him of stealing it, or stole his work themselves.

"Three Sailors"

Late during the 1990s, NYC artist John Drury, who knew Alvin from their shared neighborhood - Drury living on Third Street, with his wife and Baltrop on Second Street, in lower Manhattan - befriended the artist and recognized the photographers unique abilities, nominating him for a Louis Comfort Tiffany Foundation Award for the Arts. Alvin Baltrop had few exhibits in his lifetime; his work gaining international fame only after his death.

According to one journalist, Baltrop came out as gay at fourteen years old. Baltrop had long term relationships with men and women, but preferred identifying as gay.

Baltrop was diagnosed with cancer in the 1990s. Impoverished and without health insurance, curators and filmmakers attempted to exploit him for their own financial gain. He died on February 1, 2004

1990 – Nakshatra Bagwe, born in Mumbai, India, is an Indian actor and award winning film maker. Nakshatra will be making his Indian feature film debut in My Son is Gay and is due for his international film debut as the lead actor of Hearts. His films Logging Out, Book of Love, Curtains and PR (Public Relations) represent the current LGBT scenario of India.

He is a LGBT rights activist and also an organiser of Gujarat's first ever pride march. Nakshatra has participated in several Pride Parades in India. He won KASHISH – Mumbai International Queer Film Festival in 2012 for his debut film Logging Out. It was screened at prestigious venues like Queens Museum of Arts (New York), The Old Cinema (London) and it was also a part of Queer India European tour 2012 to raise awareness about LGBT issues in the Indian context.

Nakshatra hails from Konkan coastal region. Masure, Malvan is his native village. He takes part in homosexuality awareness projects. Nakshatra and his mother were featured in a promo of popular Indian television show Satyamev Jayte. He came out to society when he participated in Asia’s first LGBT flashmob. He also participated in second queer flashmob which happened at Dadar station, Mumbai. Nakshatra posed nude for a campaign named 'Breaking Closets'.

In July 2014, He became the brand ambassador of Moovz, a global social network for gay men. Nakshatra is first and only openly Indian LGBT person to be signed up as the brand ambassador by any brand till now.

1998 – At a meeting of the American Psychiatric Association in Denver, a resolution was passed rejecting reparative therapy. It stated that attempts to change a person's sexual orientation can cause depression, anxiety, and self-destructive behaviour. A similar resolution was passed by the American Psychological Association in August 1997. Dr. Nada Stotland, head of the association's public affairs committee, told the Denver Post that the very existence of reparative therapy spreads the idea that homosexuality is a disease or evil and has a dehumanizing effect resulting in an increase in discrimination, harassment, and violence against gays, lesbians, and bisexuals.

[superbsaturn]

Like Real People Do [Ineffable Bureaucracy] (2/2)

Summary: Gabriel and Beelzebub had run into one another a handful of times over the last 6,000 years that they had been the lead representative of their respective domains. However, when they begin to meet outside of the usual context of-- well --war, an interesting development in their relationship begins to take place that they attempt to understand and navigate together.

In other words:

5 + 1: 5 times Gabriel and Beelzebub meet in canon (extended), and 1 time they meet away from the viewers' eyes.

The title of this fic and its chapters come from the song "Like Real People Do" by Hozier (honestly, my favorite Hozier song).

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49341112/chapters/124825396#workskin

Link to Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/superbsaturn/725602324982153216/like-real-people-do-ineffable-bureaucracy-12

-

6/6: Like Real People Do

1 Year Ago; Gabriel Statue : Edinburgh, Scotland/The Resurrectionists Pub - 3 Years After Armagedidn’t

The graveyard in Edinburgh, Scotland was eerily silent, save for the occasional gust of wind and the shuffle of an angel and a demon who stood side by side observing the statue of the Archangel Gabriel before them. Beelzebub, although happy to be spending time with Gabriel again, was rather confused as to why of all places Gabriel brought them here. While they found it rather strange to stare at the statue of the angel that was standing beside them they weren’t going to complain– well, at least not aloud. 

“Let there be light.”

As soon as the words left Gabriel a beam of light shined directly onto the statue, highlighting all of the engraved creases and cracks that the sculptor conveyed within the art form. Gabriel was the first to announce his astonishment at the beauty of the piece. Well, Beelzebub wasn’t truly astonished at all, it was just another sculpture to them, but they couldn’t deny that it was amusing to see Gabriel so fascinated by himself. 

“I think the sculptor really caught something. The shape of the head.” Gabriel lifted his hands just enough to emphasize his point. “Beautiful. Really moving.”

Beelzebub glanced at Gabriel for a second, nodding as they said, “It’s a very good likeness.” They couldn’t deny that, it was nearly spot on in structure and detail, well minus the clothing and hair. 

Gabriel smiled. “Sometimes I come here for hours and just… look at it,” he said, his eyes locked onto the structure before them, not even realizing Beelzebub had turned their head to look at him. For a second they were a bit saddened at the look he gave the statue. A part of them wished he’d look at them like that. They turned back to glance around the statue, no longer wanting to look directly at it. They didn’t want Gabriel to see their expression and question it, but they also couldn’t bring themselves to look at the sculptor again. 

“Right,” they started, looking at Gabriel over their shoulder, “Shall we go to the pub?” They turned their back to Gabriel and began walking towards the exit of the graveyard. 

Gabriel hadn’t moved when they did, wanting to prolong his stay for only a few seconds longer, but when he turned to look at Gabriel and realized they were a few feet ahead of him he jogged up to Beelzebub. He chuckled as he did so, walking in step with them. “That eager to get away from my statue, huh?” Gabriel teased.

They scoffed. “What do I need the statue for when you’re right here with me? If I was that desperate to admire you I’d just have us schedule another one of our meetings. No need to stare at a marble figure.” Though Beelzebub was only saying this to get Gabriel back for his little joke, they weren’t entirely lying either. They do enjoy admiring him up close and what better way to do that than getting to spend an hour or so with him here and there and complain about everything Hell is doing wrong. 

Gabriel cleared his throat, feeling the corporal body that he corporated in heat up, a bit of pink covering the span of his neck and inching up to his cheeks. He was rather grateful for how dark it was outside. He looked over to Beelzebub as they walked past the gate of the graveyard and smiled softly. He couldn’t deny the fact that these meetings were slowly becoming his favorite activities to look forward to. Even though each time they’d separate they’d agree there was no plan to meet again in the future, this was their first meeting in which no agenda was set. It was just a meeting between the Supreme Archangel and the Prince of Hell to sit and chat, catching up like mortal friends would. It was the first time he can say that he understood where Aziraphale was coming from when it came to spending time with that demon Crowley. Having this sort of connection was truly something worthwhile as selfish as it may be, Gabriel couldn’t say he really cared. 

By the time he was finished with his train of thought, they were directly across the street from the pub, The Resurrectionist. They crossed the street arriving at the entrance of the pub. Gabriel stepped forward and opened the door, gesturing to Beelzebub to go ahead, bowing his head with a soft smile. He followed behind them and approached the bartop with Beelzebub, getting the attention of– what Gabriel assumed was –the owner. 

“How can I help you folks?” the owner asked, offering Gabriel and Beelzebub a pleasant smile. Beelzebub leaned their elbows against the counter, their hands folded under their chin as they let Gabriel take the lead. 

“Two goblets of your intoxicating liquor, please. And, uh…” he trailed on, turning to Beelzebub and outstretching a hand towards them to see if they wanted anything more. For a second it took them by surprise. They were only getting the beer to ensure they could stay in the establishment without being kicked out for loitering so for Gabriel to ask if they’d like anything else knowing they didn’t need anything to eat or drink genuinely took them by surprise. They thought it was rather sweet in fact. 

 They leaned up from leaning on their hands. “A packet of crisps,” they answered, turning to Gabriel, giving him a look as if to ask if that was the right thing to say. Gabriel offered a look of acknowledgment in return and pointed back at the bartender. 

“Very good, sir,” the owner replied in his thick Scottish accent. “Which liquor would that be?” he asked while handing Beelzebub their snack across the counter. 

Gabriel looked bewildered for a second, looking at Beelzebub– who looked up at him fondly –with a confused glance before answering his question. “Whichever one it is you humans usually orally consume.”

The bartender, although a bit confused, nodded. “Two pints of regular, then,” he said and turned around to get their drinks ready. Beelzebub left the counter and went to find them both a seat in the corner, leaving Gabriel to get the drink himself.

While the owner poured their drinks Gabriel looked around spotting the machine that was currently playing music behind him. He observed it for a minute, taking in its appearance and watching as the human standing in front of it picked a song. “What’s that?” he asked the bartender who looked up to see what Gabriel was talking about. 

“A classic 1960s jukebox. You don’t see many of them these days. You just put your money in and tell it what you want to hear,” the owner said, placing the drinks on the table.

Gabriel shook his head in amazement. “Huh… You people. Amazing,” he said, pulling out the amount of money needed to pay for the drinks and handing it over with a wide smile. He glanced back over his shoulder and waved his fingers in the jukebox’s direction. Instantly the song changed to ‘Everyday’, the song that the bartender in America so kindly informed him the name of. He took the two glasses of beer with a small “Ha!” to the bartender who looked bewildered at the sudden change in much. Despite the man in front of the jukebox attempting to change the tune, the machine wouldn’t budge. 

 Gabriel walked towards the table that Beelzebub had chosen to occupy, placing the two glasses down on the table. “Here you go,” he said before occupying the space beside Beelzebub, scooting just a bit closer to them. “You don’t actually have to consume it,” he whispered to them, gesturing to the drinks on the table.

“Oh.”

“And the…” Gabriel questioned, hovering his hand over the snack and looking at Beelzebub with a curious expression.

“Oh, packet of crisps? Good,” they replied which only made Gabriel offer them a slight look of repulsion. He could never imagine eating or drinking anything when he needn’t do so, which made it all the more special that he offered Beelzebub to order more needlessly. 

For a few seconds, they sat in comfortable silence, getting themselves situated where they sat before the music that played over the speakers caught Beelzebub’s attention. They furrowed their brows, their eyes darting around the pub before they looked up at Gabriel with a genuine look of surprise. “Is that… Did you…” they asked their expression one of pure and utter disbelief at the– not so small, small –gesture. 

Gabriel shrugged a bit with a grin on his face. “A small miracle,” he admitted, gesturing with his fingers at how minuscule the miracle actually was. 

“Oh,” Beelzebub sighed in amazement, the small act making them utterly flustered. After Gabriel’s comment about not performing small miracles on trivial matters during their billiards game, this was the last thing they had ever expected him to miracle.

For Gabriel the miracle had been a small, kind gesture that meant practically nothing, …but for Beelzebub, it meant everything and more. 

So, Gabriel went on to explain himself. “That jukebox will always be there on that jukebox…” Beelzebub acknowledged the statement with a small hum as he continued. “...to comfort the afflicted.”

Beelzebub, at a complete loss for words, hummed and gave a firm nod in reply, looking off to the side with a wide smile that Gabriel could not help but match. “I should give you something,” Beelzebub said, leaning towards Gabriel as they did so. Gabriel gave them a look of confusion, not having expected to receive anything in return which made Beelzebub’s non-existent heart flutter at the knowledge that he hadn’t been anticipating something in return for his sweet gesture. 

The two of them kept eye contact for a few prolonged seconds before Beelzebub placed their hand on the table opening up their closed fist to reveal a fly against their pointer finger. “Here,” they said, “It’s for you.” 

Gabriel leaned forward and observed the fly in Beelzebub’s hand. He placed his own next to their’s and lined up his own finger to their’s allowing the fly to jump from their hand to his. “You’ll never know when you’ll need it,” they said. Gabriel allowed his finger to linger longer than necessary against theirs, nudging them to prolong the contact as long as he could without it being too obvious as to why. 

“It’s a container, so… it’s bigger on the inside. You can put things in it,” they explained, moving their hand away to reach for a matchbox on the table. They gave Gabriel a wide smile before dumping out the matches onto the table so that only the empty box remained. 

Gabriel took the box from them and began to place the fly in it, safely and securely. Beelzebub waved their finger at it, saying a small “bye-bye” with a soft chuckle. The fly buzzed as it made its way into the box. Gabriel closed the box and raised it to his ear hearing the faint buzz of the fly inside while Beelzebub observed him, a tender smile on their face. 

“I don’t actually know what to say,” Gabriel admitted as he turned to look at Beelzebub, placing the matchbox into the inside pocket of his coat close to his heart. For a minute they were at a loss for words. The warmth that Gabriel held in his expression made them metaphorically melt. His eyes were filled with such appreciation and dare they say, love. 

“Why not?” 

He shrugged, looking at them as if the answer was obvious. “No one’s ever given me anything before.”

Beelzebub sat there stunned for a moment. The Supreme Archangel of Heaven never received a single praise or gift of gratitude. Perhaps Heaven was not as kind to their angels as Beelzebub once suspected it had been. The knowledge of that made their, once again, non-existent heartache for Gabriel. To them, he deserved the world and more, though they weren't quite ready to admit that. They sighed softly, their shoulders dropping as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of them, and for them, it felt like it had. Sitting here with Gabriel, in this very moment, made them feel so light. They were at peace for the first time in 6,000 long years. 

The angel and the demon shared a few glances between one another before they settled back comfortably into their seats and relaxed, enjoying the silence that their company provided as their song continued to play over the speakers. There was no need to admit what they were feeling because they both knew deep down what it was and admitting it aloud was like comparing it to a kiss from God and a temptation from Satan. It was a beautiful feeling they had to admit, but to say the idea of it wasn’t also terrifying. 

They were genuinely captivated by one another and it was the best feeling they had ever experienced. That was a fact neither of them could deny, but to admit it meant to forsake their sides and that alone was horribly daunting. 

However, now was not a time when they were willing to dwell on worries for the future. Living in the moment felt so much more freeing, which is why Gabriel urged himself to build up enough courage to take Beelzebub’s hand under the table. He scolded himself internally, he’s the Fucking Archangel Gabriel and yet he was scared to hold Beelzebub’s hand he felt utterly pathetic. So it was made worse when he slightly grazed his fingers against their hand and caught them by surprise, turning their head to look at him in a quick, sharp movement that made Gabriel hesitate. He began to take his hand back and cursed himself for misreading the situation. Beelzebub quickly realized their mistake and reached back for his hand, taking it firmly and offering him a small smile to ease Gabriel’s worry. 

Both the Duke of Hell and the Supreme Archangel could feel the warmth radiate off themselves. Gabriel’s cheeks began to tint a soft pink, and unfortunately for him, his blush could not be hidden by the dark in the well-light pub. They continued to sit together, holding hands, without a single word passing between them. Though the silence was a bit awkward Beelzebub couldn’t deny that there was a sense of comfortability that they couldn’t imagine experiencing with anyone else but Gabriel. 

As ‘Everyday’ continued what must be its eleventh cycle since Gabriel performed the miracle he squeezed Beelzebub’s hand and turned his body a bit so he was facing them. “What do you think about leaving here? There’s a nice coastal area about an hour from here called Forth Lock and there’s a lighthouse I’ve always wanted to visit but never had a reason to before,” Gabriel asked. Though he was telling the truth about wanting to visit the lighthouse he truly just wanted to spend some time with Beelzebub away from mortal eyes. 

“I don’t see why not. I’ve never seen a lighthouse personally so I can’t deny I’m intrigued by it,” Beelzebub replied. They looked at the table and spotted the crisps that they had asked for and the untouched beer. They reached forward, having let go of Gabriel’s hand, and took a couple of sips from the beer. Beelzebub had never had it before but they couldn’t deny that they somewhat enjoyed it, it had a rather pleasant taste to it. 

Gabriel, however, grimaced as they watched Beelzebub drink the beer, shaking his head before standing from the booth and offering his hand for Beelzebub to take. They did so and allowed Gabriel to assist them. They left the beer and crisps on the table, walking out of the pub after Gabriel waved goodbye to the owner. 

Once they stepped a few feet away from the entrance of the pub so that no one could see them. Gabriel pulled Beelzebub a bit closer and with a snap of his fingers they vanished into thin air and almost instantaneously they reappeared right in front of the Leith East Breakwater Lighthouse. The lighthouse was currently illuminating the harbor, the ripples in the water reflecting the stars in the night sky. It was a gorgeous sight Beelzebub had to admit, and it was only made better with Gabriel by their side. 

In the harbor boats of all sizes were docked and lit only the lighthouse, not a single other human or celestial being in sight. Right now it was just Beelzebub, Gabriel, and the surrounding water occupying this peaceful space, and Beelzebub could not help but wonder if this is what it felt like in Heaven because they could not remember. 

Beelzebub turned to look at Gabriel, his violet eyes vibrant and filled with so much care, affection, and dare they say… love. They smiled brightly at him, taking hold of his other hand so both were in their grasp. “I cannot deny this is a beautiful area,” Beelzebub admitted, grinning up at Gabriel with a tenderness they never imagined possible for them. They’re the bloody Prince of Hell they weren’t supposed to be tender or kind, hell, angels, and demons weren’t even supposed to experience emotions. But, if this was so wrong of them they never wanted to be right. For Beelzebub this was the greatest sin of all, falling for the Supreme Archangel was certainly a sin disguised as a blessing and they’d gladly fall for it over and over again if it meant being with Gabriel. 

“Ha,” he chuckled. “I’m glad you like it so much. I have to say, though, that I wasn’t being entirely truthful in my reasoning for wanting to come here,” he admitted sheepishly, grinning at them like a fool. 

“Oh?” they questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. “I thought angels couldn’t lie.”

Gabriel laughed, “I didn’t lie, per se, I just didn’t say the full truth.” He grasped Beelzebub’s hands firmly and once again pulled them closer, moving one hand to their waist while outstretching their other. As he did so he waved his fingers towards the nearby boat which began to play ‘Everyday’ on the speakers. He slowly began to sway to the music urging Beelzebub to do the same. 

They laughed as they realized this was Gabriel’s reasoning for dragging them here to a secluded spot of Scotland at this Godforsaken time of night. “I thought angels couldn’t dance,” Beelzebub said, grinning at the utter foolishness of the situation. They were acting like teenagers in love and it was so beyond embarrassing, but God if it wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world then what could be? “Oh, and here you go again Mr.’I don’t perform miracles on trivial matters’, performing miracles just to play and dance to a stupid song I enjoy.” 

“I can’t dance,” he admitted, “I’m winging it as I go.” Beelzebub rolled their eyes at his answer, shaking their head in disbelief at his absurdity. He continued, replying to Beelzebub’s tease at frivolous miracles. “Well of course I performed the miracles, they aren’t trivial at all if it’s for you,” he replied with complete sincerity. 

For the second time tonight, Beelzebub was at a loss for words as they danced along to their song, sheepishly looking down at the ground the hide their embarrassment. “You damned angel, always know exactly what to say,” they muttered, smiling like a fool. 

Gabriel laughed wholeheartedly enjoying the tranquil simplicity that this moment offered. He swayed with them for the remainder of the song and even after it finished. They simply held each other and swayed in the stillness of the night– save for the crashing water against the rocks of the land. 

Beelzebub was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed by their emotions. They had never felt all this positive emotion at once and it was building up in them like a pot of boiling water ready to spill over any second. They’d never been on the receiving end of this generosity, this intimacy in Hell before. If they were honest they’d never been on the receiving end of a singular positive emotion in the 6,000 years they were a demon and it was all so new and raw. 

It was strange and while it wasn’t unpleasant or unwelcomed it was all a bit too much at once. A squeeze against their hand seemed to snap them out of their thoughts. They looked up at Gabriel who was giving them a comforting smile though his eyes expressed a bit of concern for their sudden shift. 

Every emotion they felt towards the Archangel rushed back to Beelzebub and without giving it a second thought they released his hands. Instead, they grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him firmly down to them smashing their lips to his in a sudden rush of absolute need. Not for anything more than this but they couldn’t hold back their emotions any longer and this was the only way they could think of to get across their feelings all at once. They were never great at communicating what they were feeling without it coming across as anger and that was the last thing they’d want at this moment. 

Gabriel was stiff for only a few seconds, stunned at the suddenness of Beelzebub’s lips against his, but once he processed what was happening he wrapped his arms behind their back and pulled them closer so that they were flush against his body. He kissed them back with equal enthusiasm and fervor, and they both melted into each other, soft sighs of relief leaving them. 

The kiss was nothing like either of them had ever experienced before. For Gabriel, it was like a song sung by the Heavens, and for Beelzebub, it was like flies buzzing in their ear. They kissed one another with such passion and adoration, holding on for dear life and never wanting to let go. They were drowning in a sea of love that would only make it harder to breathe but neither of them cared because if they were able to die right now they’d both be content. 

Beelzebub’s hands didn’t move from the lapels of Gabriel’s coat, instead pulling them more so that he had to adjust for balance. Gabriel’s hands traveled from their back to their waist, up their sides to their face which he caresses so gently that it felt like a feather was grazing their skin before he moved back down to their waist again.

The kiss was nothing like they’d ever experienced before. It was like a warm embrace that they’d never been given. Like wings that wrapped them in a cocoon of their own for safety and security built purely on love. It was better than Heaven and Hell. It was home. 

When they broke apart they stared at each other dazed for a bit before Beelzebub couldn’t help but laugh accompanied with a pure-hearted smile that made Gabriel fall for them even more. He joined in with their laughter and leaned forward again to kiss the top of their head. 

After a few seconds of standing like that against each other Beelzebub asked, “So, what does this mean from here?” Despite the actions that just occurred they couldn’t help but feel anxious as they awaited Gabriel’s reply, fearing the worst. 

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” he admitted, “but I never want it to end, Beelzebub. I want to be with you for all of eternity.” 

Beelzebub looked up at him, recognizing the look of pure determination and sincerity in his eyes. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” 

Gabriel moved his hands from their waist back to their hands, taking them both and holding them out in front of him. “Beelzebub, I am an Archangel from Heaven, a place designed by God for love and light and all things good. I am the Archangel Gabriel, the herald of visions and messenger of God Herself. I am the Supreme Archangel of the holiest place in the universe, designed in the likeness of God’s image that claims to be all pure and all holy,” he paused for a second, moving one hand to cradle the side of Beelzebub’s face. They sank into his touch, his hand warm, gentle, and soft. “And yet, despite that, I have never in my 6,000 years as the Archangel Gabriel felt truly loved and appreciated as I do with you. Nor have I ever felt the love I have for you with anything or anyone else.” He tilted their head up so their eyes were locked when he confessed his next words. 

“Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies and Prince of Hell, I love you. For Heaven’s sake, it’s more than that! I’m fucking in love with you.”  

Beelzebub stood there staring at Gabriel in utter disbelief for what felt like minutes but was really only a few seconds. When they collected their thoughts and processed Gabriel’s words they finally were able to ground themself enough to speak again. “You bloody idiot, as much as I didn’t want to admit it at the time I’ve been in love with you ever since our meeting in America. I love you, Gabriel, I love you more than Hell itself, which truthfully I don’t love very much but it’s the second best thing after you. Though there’s a very large margin from Hell to you so no need to worry about it much. Ah shit, I do love my flies more than Hell so in comparison to you they’re–”

Their rambling had been interrupted by Gabriel’s lips against theirs once more. The flies that flew around in their stomach made their non-existent heart skip several beats. They grabbed onto Gabriel like their life depended on it and allowed themself to be washed up in this moment of absolute bliss. 

3 Months Ago; A. Z. Fell and Co. - 4 Years After Armagedidn’t 

Beelzebub has been distraught ever since they learned the news that Gabriel went missing and not being able to tell anyone the reason why was only making it worse. They were used to discorporating lesser demons occasionally but since this whole ordeal happened the number of lesser demons that faced the wrath of the Grand Duke of Hell was surely nearing the thousands. Currently, they were sitting on their throne, cooling down after just having witnessed nearly– if not all –of the demons that joined Shax with her little confrontation with that angel, Aziraphale’s, bookshop. 

Dagon was approaching Beelzebub with Furfur, about to report an important discovery they had reached during Furfur’s active admissions process when they were cut off by loud blaring sounds that rung throughout the entirety of Hell. ‘WAR HAS BEEN DECLARED,’ was blasting throughout the throne room with bright red flashing lights. A map appeared before Beelzebub with a bright white light pointing directly to Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

“The angel declared war,” Furfur said, absolutely starstruck at the revelation. 

Dagon cheered excitedly, “We’re finally at war with Heaven!” 

Beelzebub stood still for a few short seconds, unable to process or believe what was before their eyes before they recollected themselves. They have come this far they cannot make a single mistake until they’re with Gabriel again. Not a single one. “Dagon, Furfur, enter the bookshop. We needn’t permission now that war has been declared. I’ll follow right behind you, I’m simply going to alert the other demons to prepare for battle, but we’ll follow protocol for now. The three of us should do.” 

Furfur and Dagon didn’t bother giving a verbal response, just offering a simple nod before vanishing into thin air and leaving Beelzebub behind. They paced the room, back and forth, before spotting a demon outside the window of the room. “You! Come here,” they ordered, gesturing with their finger for the demon to enter the room. The demon, Josh, hesitated before doing so. Within seconds of stepping foot into the room he was completely disposed of in a pit of fire and flies, screaming in agony as he discorporated right before Beelzebub. They were no longer able to contain their anger, their frustration, and the worst of all their worry. “Damn you angels! Where the bloody hell is he?” The question came out as a whisper, almost like a plea to God to answer so they wouldn’t go absolutely insane. Their pleas were never answered. 

Once they finally steeled themselves they vanished from Hell and materialized from smoke and fire into the bookshop, turning around and dusting off the dirt on their shoulder. Though it felt like minutes in Hell, in reality, they’d only arrived a few seconds after Furfur and Dagon on Earth. All three of the demons glanced around the room and processed the situation, spotting the angel Aziraphale, demon Crowley, an angel currently occupied with a book, and the other Archangels, along with what seemed to be three mortals. 

Dagon was the first to speak after they had all appeared, eager to do so. “We are at war! Finally!” He exclaimed, a slight laugh following his words. He stepped forward as he spoke, approaching the other being in the room. 

Crowley rolled his eyes under his sunglasses. “Nobody’s at war,” he drawled out, which made Dagon’s smile instantly fade. He continued, “You idiots sent an idiot to lead a gang of idiots to attack a bookshop.” All three of the newly arrived demons tilted their head to where Crowley had just gestured to, seeing Shax unconscious on the couch behind him. “Those idiots there,” Crowley nodded to the Archangels, “want their Archangel back so they can fire him.” He pointed to the unfamiliar human standing in the middle of the room which made Beelzebub look at him thoroughly. They didn’t recognize him at all, and while there was some sense of familiarity with the human they wouldn’t be able to mistake Gabriel. Surely, this human could not be their Gabriel. 

While Dagon occupied himself with growling at the angels, choking on their own spit for a second, Beelzebub looked past everyone to Shax, zapping her awake with a bit of lightning. “Nice job, Shax. Beautifully done. Remind me to put in for your commendation,” Beelzebub said sarcastically, watching as Shax stumbled around to stand. 

Shax observed them for a second before turning to Crowley. “Sarcasm, yes?” she asked, trying to clarify Beelzebub’s tone. 

Crowley nodded. “Yep.” 

“I’m afraid so,” Beelzebub said mockingly. 

The Archangel Michael, completely fed up with the situation, cleared his throat. “If it is to be war–” 

“No, no, no, no, no war,” Crowley interrupted. “Aziraphale, let’s sort this out,” he said turning to the angel, “Where’s the cardboard box?” 

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows. “What box?”

“The one Gabriel arrived with.”

Uriel was the first to ask what nearly everyone in the room was wondering. “Gabriel? He’s here?” 

The man standing in the middle of the room was the first to reply. “Sometimes people call me Gabriel,” he said cheerfully, looking over to Beelzebub and shrugging his shoulders with a broad smile, amused almost. 

Crowley sighed. “Yeah, we did a thing, hiding miracle,” gesturing to the man, and nodding his head towards Aziraphale. Beelzebub took the time to observe the man. It would certainly make sense why they couldn’t recognize Gabriel if a miracle was performed to hide him. “Apparently, if we do a miracle together, it all works a bit too well,” he explained as Aziraphale brought the box over.

Dagon, skeptical of the angels in the room, leaned forward a bit. “Careful. Could be a trap.”

Saraqael, annoyed beyond belief at this inconvenient intervention of sorts, ridiculed Dagon. “It’s a cardboard box. It’s not going to bite you.” Dagon shrunk his shoulders in defeat. 

Aziraphale, completely ignoring the bickering happening, grabbed the box and handed it to Crowley who examined the contents inside before flipping the box over. He’d seen Gabriel write on the bottom of the box during his brief visit to Heaven, but he did not know what to expect when he read Gabriel’s handwriting. “Oh, there we go. I thought that’s what you were doing,” he said, looking up at ‘Gabriel’. 

“What was I doing?” ‘Gabriel’ asked, completely confused by the situation. 

“You were writing a message. Oh, probably to yourself, on the bottom of the box,” Crowley explained. 

“‘I am in the fly!’ What fly?” Aziraphale asked after reading Gabriel’s handwriting aloud. 

Crowley adjusted the box in his hands before looking up. “Lord Beelzebub,” he called attention to them, meeting their eyes even through his sunglasses. “I believe flies are your department.”

Beelzebub shifted their weight from foot to foot. “Hm,” they hummed in thought, looking around the room, feeling for a fly that could be present. It didn’t take them long before they found it and to say they were proud was an understatement. Gabriel was wiser than he let on, they’ll admit that– though never aloud. Relief flooded their body as they realized that Gabriel truly was safe and present. “There’s only one fly here, and it’s familiar,” they admitted, spotting the fly on Aziraphale’s desk. They whistled, gaining the fly’s attention. “Come here. Come on,” they urged, gesturing with the finger for the fly to approach. “Good boy.” They chuckled as the fly crossed the room. “No wonder nobody could find you. This is where you were keeping all your memories. All your… you,” they revealed as they nudged the fly with their finger, smiling softly. 

‘Gabriel’ approached them, staring intently at the fly in their hand, confused but curious. 

“Look at you,” they sighed gently before praising Gabriel, “You’re perfect.” They turned to ‘Gabriel’, holding their finger out to him. “Here. Take it,” they said after he hesitated. ‘Gabriel’ raised his eyebrows and scoffed softly before lifting his pointer finger up to theirs, touching their finger. “Gently,” Beelzebub lightly scolded to which he listened, softening his touch. The fly crossed over onto his finger and ‘Gabriel’ brought it up to his face, unsure what exactly to do. “Now,” Beelzebub started, “Open it.” They placed their hand under their chin, grinning softly.

‘Gabriel’ gifted his finger up to his face and allowed the fly to hop onto his cheek before approaching his eye and flying in. He was hit with a rush of memories between hima dn Beelzebub, the memories happening in sequence very rapidly that it was almost too much happening all at once, but when he came too he was quickly able to collect himself with a deep breath. 

Gabriel looks around the room slowly, starting with Aziraphale and Crowley who he seems surprised, but perhaps somewhat happy, to see. “Aziraphale,” he questions, though he is not expecting an answer, instead he just laughs before looking towards the door. “Michael, Uriel,” he says before taking a pause, looking at his other fellow Archangel. “Don’t tell me.”

“I won’t,” Saraqael says, a look of disappointment on their face. 

Gabriel points to them, opening his mouth as if their name is on the tip of his tongue before he furrows his eyes and squints, trying his hardest to remember. 

“It’s Saraqael!”

“Saraqael! Yes, I knew that. Of course it is,” Gabriel exclaimed at the same time as Saraqael, laughing again as he turned to look at the demons to his left. “Oh, eesh. You guys,” he uttered in disgust. Shax stood there slack-jawed at seeing the Archangel Gabriel before her.

Finally, Gabriel turned to spot Beelzebub who looked at him with a soft smile and arms that opened up as if to ask ‘Remember me?’. How could Gabriel ever forget them, it didn’t seem possible. His eyes softened when they caught sight of Beelzebub, his shoulders relaxing and his entire expression just filled with pure warmth and love. “You,” he nearly whispered, letting out a sigh of relief that allowed the weight on his shoulders to flow off him seamlessly, bringing his hands up to his heart and holding his chest. Beelzebub couldn’t believe they could fall more in love with him but they did. “Thank you,” he professed genuinely, dropping his hands to his stomach and stepping closer to Beelzebub. 

They did the same, relieved to finally have their Archangel back within reach. “Silly, silly angel. Why?” they asked as they stopped only a few inches away from him. 

Gabriel shook his head briefly attempting to think of the words to say. “I was coming to you, but…” he paused for a second, closing his eyes before admitting, “I– I… forgot.” Beelzebub chuckled softly, not surprised at his response in the slightest given how he was acting only a few moments earlier. 

They nodded their head and looked up to meet his eyes. “Well, I think Aziraphale probably took much better care of you than I could have done,” they replied truthfully, nodding to the angel in question who looked confused at the situation. 

Their moment of reconnection was interrupted by Shax who was astonished at the sight before her. “Beelzebub! You traitor! Collaborating with Heaven?” she accused, ignoring the look of offense Gabriel gave her. 

Beelzebub leaned towards Shax. “I didn’t collaborate with Heaven any more than Gabriel collaborated with Hell,” they said firmly. Beelzebub looked around the room before their expression softened as they looked back at Gabriel. “I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides.” They exchanged looks with one another, Gabriel practically melting at the confession, matching Beelzebub’s warm-hearted smile with his own. His eyes filled with so much love that to nearly everyone else in the room seemed impossible for the Archangel Gabriel, and yet here he was, holding Beelzebub’s hands with such adoration that made Azirpahale’s heart melt, subconsciously reaching out to touch Crowley’s arms as they witnessed the display of love before them. 

One of the humans that no one in the room besides Crowley and Aziraphale recognized, Maggie, was the first to speak up about the display of affection. “Oh. That’s really sweet,” she sighed. Dagon gagged at both the idea of something like that and the visual display before him. 

The person beside Maggie, Nina, followed up, saying, “Enough to make you believe in true love.”

Michael, aghast at the idea of mortals in the presence of celestial beings demanded for them to be cast into pillars of salt, making them immovable and unalive. Crowley was quick to interject and lead them outside after asking Aziraphale if he could manage whatever went on inside the bookshop. After getting Aziraphale’s reassurance, Crowley led Nina and Maggie out while chaos ensued. 

Gabriel turned his attention from the door to the other angels and demons before finally looking back at Beelzebub, nodding off to the side and removing one hand from theirs so that he could pull them over to the side. The shouting had already commenced. Words of hate and disgust were shot between demons and angels, all the while Gabriel wrapped an arm around Beelzebub and stared at them both in amusement and confusion. Beelzebub caught his eyes and simply shook their head.   

Aziraphale had finally had enough of the shouting and chaos, ringing a bell to gain the attention of everyone else and ease everyone into silence as Crowley prepared to walk back in. “I’ve had quite enough of this,” Aziraphale announced, fed up with the angels and demons. “You will speak one at a time,” he ordered before gesturing with a genuine smile to Shax.

Gabriel and Beelzebub had no interest in the arguing that commenced, simply enjoying one another's company again after the events of the past week. Gabriel held onto Beelzebub’s waist securely, worried that if he were to let go they’d slip away from him. Beelzebub was grasping onto the back of Gabriel’s borrowed clothing afraid that if the other Archangel’s got a hold of him he would, once again, forget all about them. The thought alone was horrifying and it made falling as a punishment seem like the better option. Gabriel would agree. 

After minutes of bickering back and forth, Aziraphale interrupted everyone again. “Why don’t we ask them where they’d like to go?” he asked, gesturing towards Gabriel and Beelzebub who finally looked away from one another to focus on the others. Gabriel made a gesture of approval at Aziraphale’s suggestion, but it was cut off by Uriel before he could say anything. 

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” they said, rolling their eyes.

Furfur interjected, “No, there are precedents. Hell doing Heaven’s punishing for you. Job, that was one. Lovely man, never met him.”

“Um, Gabriel,” Azirapahle continued, “Beelzebub, what do you want?”

Gabriel looked over at Beelzebub, leaning back a bit as if to think about it while Beelzebub locked eyes with him. He leaned back forward again and turned to everyone in the room. “I would like… better clothes,” he confessed, Beelzebub looked towards the others in agreement with him, slightly grinning. “And I would like to be with Beelzebub. Wherever Beelzebub is, is my Heaven,” he professed, smiling at his partner. Michael couldn’t help but roll his eyes and make a sound of disapproval. 

Beelzebub ignored it and instead continued after Gabriel. “And where you are, my sweet, is forever my Hell,” they said, following Gabriel’s reaction earlier and placing their hands over their own heart as they looked up at him adoringly. Shax groaned in disgust. 

“You know, Alpha Centauri’s nice. Always wanted to go there,” Crowley announced, sharing a look with Aziraphale as he did so. “Couple of decent planets. No nightlife to speak of,” he said, shrugging a bit. 

Uriel ignored Crowley’s words, looking at Gabriel. “If you leave, you can never come back,” they threatened. 

“That would be the point,” Gabriel said apathetically. 

“If you flee, traitor,” Shax hissed at Beelzebub, Gabriel again looking at her and questioning her audacity. “Hell will send all its legions to hunt you down.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “You know as well as I do how badly understaffed Hell is right now. Anyway, with me not there, Shax, you could be the next Grand Duke of Hell,” they said to appease Shax, Gabriel offering a look of false pride at the idea. 

Shax turned to the other demons. “Grand Duke of Hell,” she repeated excitedly.

“Angels and demons, they can’t just–” Michael started, only to be interrupted by Gabriel and Beelzebub singing in the corner of the room, hands clasped firmly together. 

“‘Everyday, it’s a-getting closer’,” Gabriel sang in a somewhat low baritone voice. 

Beelzebub continued, “‘Going faster than a rollercoaster’.”

They began to sing together, everyone in the room turning their attention to them. “‘Love like yours will surely come my way’.” The lights in the room that were once off began to light up as the two celestial beings slowly vanished from the room, singing a breathy, ‘A-hey, a-hey-hey’ to one another, completely ignoring everyone else. 

They were gone in a blink of an eye, left by themselves in the stars with their hands held tightly in one another’s as their wings spread out into the open space to keep them afloat. Now, finally, alone with Gabriel, Beelzebub let out an enormous sigh of relief and punched Gabriel’s arm. “I was so bloody worried, you idiot!” they exclaimed, floating back from him and crossing their arms. 

Gabriel rubbed his arm– though it didn’t hurt in the slightest, he simply know they’d take pleasure in the idea that they caused him a bit of pain after all the emotional pain they had gone through –and offered a look of defeat. “Beelzebub, I swear, I had full intention to come to you when I left Heaven! Though it’d be a bit awkward if the Supreme Archangel showed up in Hell naked and with no memory, so perhaps going to Aziraphale was a good idea,” he said, speaking the second part a bit into the air and not to Beelzebub specifically.

“You what?!” Beelzebub questioned, astonished. They hadn’t a clue as to what in Hell’s name Gabriel was talking about besides the fact that he’d gone missing. They only just learned that he’d lost his memory not even an hour ago. “You know what, tell me the story another time, for now, I’m just glad to have you back,” they admitted, their shoulders relaxing a bit as they reapproached Gabriel.

Though they’d met with each other many times over the last four years– and occasionally even before the failed war –neither of them had ever exposed their wings before to each other, or in general really. The last time Beelzebub had spread their wings was four millennia ago during a short-lived battle that they’d settled in a matter of minutes. 

For Gabriel, the last time he had spread his wings was even longer. It was during the fall of Lucifer when the rebellion had begun and angels were fighting against their brothers, sisters, best friends, and lovers. Since then Gabriel had never spread his wings, one of the six of them having been singed in the battle and while it’s had years and years to heal, a scar still remains. He was so used to being a perfect angel, that he viewed the scar as a weakness and he was damned if he were to allow other angels to see any sign of weakness on him. 

When he realized that Beelzebub was observing his wings he became shy and ashamed, tucking his wings into himself and bowing his head ever so slightly. Beelzebub noticed Gabriel’s discomfort and reached for his hand, pulling him closer to them. He allowed them to raise his head to meet their eyes. Beelzebub’s expression was soft and patient, an expression they seemed to reserve only for Gabriel. He returned their expression with a soft, unsure smile.

Gabriel was a prideful being and the idea of imperfection, especially on himself, was too much for him to bare. Yet, he would never–  ever! –claim that Beelzebub was less than perfection, not their boils or their teeth, not their wings or scars. To Gabriel, Beelzebub was a perfect being and nothing would change that, not even if Hell froze over or Heaven burned to ash. It was simply not a possible, logical outcome for Gabriel to ever even imagine. Beelzebub was perfect in every universe and he would be damned if he let anyone say otherwise. However, he could not apply that same logic to himself. 

“Oh my sweet sweet Angel, you are beautiful,” Beelzebub said in a bit of a breathy whisper. “You don’t need to hide your wings, Gabriel, they’re perfect,” they said, their own translucent fly-like wings fluttering behind them.  

Gabriel hesitated, “But–,” he cleared his throat. “They’re scarred,” he muttered. He was not used to this feeling, it was uncomfortable and unwanted. He felt like he was shrinking into himself and that was not normal for him. He wasn’t supposed to show weakness or insecurity. He was supposed to be strong and proud, fearless and loving, not this pitiful coward. 

Beelzebub cooed softly, “Oh Gabriel, who cares that they’re scarred. You’ve never once cared about my boils or imperfections, have you?” They knew Gabriel’s answer, he was too pure of heart to label any marking on Beelzebub as anything less than flawless. 

“No, I would never!” he exclaimed, “I hope you don’t think I’d ever think that of you, Beelzebub. I would never.”

Beelzebub laughed softly. “I know you wouldn’t, Angel, I only asked because I knew you never have and so why should I think any differently when it comes to you? You, and every aspect of you, is absolutely perfect regardless of scars or markings,” they reassured, taking Gabriel’s face into their hands and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Now, let me see your wings properly. They’re most certainly fitting for the Supreme Archangel of Heaven. Must be Hell to maintain properly,” they chuckled at their own joke. 

Gabriel smiled at Beelzebub’s words, allowing his wings to spread out their full length. They stretched far into the space around them, nearly two of Gabriel’s arm's length away from his body. His wings were pure white with specs of gold scattered throughout them. Each wing from the top of his shoulder blade to the small of his back varied in size. They wrapped around his frame nicely, certainly, wings fit for one of God’s strongest soldiers. 

“Truthfully, I cannot remember the last time I took proper care of them,” he admitted sheepishly. “I don’t like bringing them out much and it's hard to find a private area to do so when I’m constantly surrounded by other angels demanding my attention.” 

“Oh, my sweet,” Beelzebub sighed. “Come, let me help you with them,” they suggested, nodding off to a nearby planet near the star Toliman that they could occupy for the time being. 

Once they’d settled onto the planet, Beelzebub had Gabriel sit in front of them with his wings spread outward so that they could begin to preen and clean the feathers with the purified water that the planet provided. The planet itself dubbed Alpha Centauri BC, was much like Earth in its features– minus the inhabitants. There were streams of water and greenery, with rocks that form canyons and mountains. It was beautiful, they had to admit. It was familiar and that alone brought enough comfort for the time being. 

When Beelzebub had started to take care of Gabriel’s wings it had felt strange at first, he had to admit, though it was far from unpleasant. Rather, he quite enjoyed the feeling of it. Having his wings gently cared for by Beelzebub was certainly something he’d never imagined centuries ago, much less five years ago, but here he is, enjoying every bit of it. Slowly but surely he began to ease into Beelzebub’s touch and relax, closing his eyes as he processed his thoughts. A lot happened in the last 24 hours, almost too much to process, but he was getting there slowly, and truthfully, none of it mattered now that he was here– away from Heaven –with Beelzebub because nothing came close to beating the feelings he got when he was in their presence, and nothing ever would. 

Present Day; Edinburgh, Scotland - 4 ½ Years After Armagedidn’t 

While Alpha Centauri was certainly a pleasant star system for a short time, it wasn’t as entertaining for Gabriel and Beelzebub as they had hoped it’d been. They’d manage to occupy the planets for two months, hoping from planet to star to planet and back but never really settling. They were constantly moving from place to place when finally Gabriel thought of an idea. “Why don’t we move to Edinburgh? Could always find a palace near the pub,” he suggested. 

Beelzebub jumped at the idea. Although they were no longer the Grand Duke of Hell any longer they still missed chaos, and Earth, even in small forms, provided some of that chaos, that mischief. It wasn’t much, but with that knowledge and with the memories that reside in Edinburg for both Gabriel and Beelzebub it was a place they agreed they’d be able to call home. 

So, within a few weeks, they had moved into a small flat near The Resurrectionists. In an attempt to avoid suspicion from Heaven and Hell, they’d avoided any attempt at using large miracles, instead, deciding to go through the grueling process of obtaining a house the way any human would. While it had taken some time they’d finally managed to get a place they could call their own in a location that they couldn’t care to complain about. 

The flat itself was practically fully furnished, save for a few appliances that were deemed necessary for mortals, but for celestial beings, they could be put on the back burner for another time. They barely needed a house in the first place, but if they wanted to maintain some semblance of normalcy it was a good idea and Gabriel wouldn’t complain. He’d gotten used to sleeping as ‘Jim’ in Aziraphale’s bookshop, and while he still no longer needed to, he could admit that the activity was quite pleasant, in the same way he would about jogging. 

Beelzebub, on the other hand, enjoyed more the electronics side of life on Earth. Music and television have certainly been something they’d grown fond of, which is why when they’d first moved into the home Beelzebub was quick to suggest they find a TV to set up. They enjoyed shows and movies about horror and violence, it brought them a sense of comfort— though Gabriel could never understand why, but still, if it made Beelzebub happy he’d suffer through it for them. 

So, they’d settled into this routine for a little under a month. Gabriel would wake up each morning and go for a jog, coming back to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate and a boom— two other things he’d come to enjoy thanks to Aziraphale —before going to wake up Beelzebub with a kiss on their cheek. Beelzebub fell into a routine of sleep, something they actually quite enjoyed— perhaps even more than Gabriel —and so they cherished every second of it that they could get, but they always looked forward to waking up to Gabriel’s warm kisses. 

From there, the two would get dressed for the day and be on their way, discovering new local restaurants and bars, museums, and theaters. Yet, there was one place they hadn’t visited since moving, and it was the sole reason they had chosen the area. The Resurrectionists Pub. Today that would change. 

The two had gotten dressed, Gabriel back in a similar attire to what he wore in Heaven– all except for the blazer today –all tailored to his liking. Beelzebub, on the other hand, wore nearly the same attire they had when they resided in Hell. On occasion, they would switch it up to a more casual appearance of black ripped jeans, an over-sized black button-up that they wore half tucked in with a red bolo tie, and a black jean jacket (sometimes substituted with a blazer instead), but it depended on their mood. Today they decided on the more casual approach since Gabriel had shed his blazer. 

“I still can’t believe we haven’t gone back there,” Beelzebub said a bit exasperated. “It’s been nearly a month since we moved here.”

Gabriel shrugged, “Neither can I. Although, we did attempt to go when we first moved but it was closed for the week since the owner was on vacation in London. Must have slipped our minds since then. To be fair, I haven't gone to visit my statue since we’ve come back, although I jog near the cemetery every morning.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “Oh please, you must be joking. I’m sure you’ve gone to stare at yourself plenty of times in the time we’ve been back.”

Gabriel looked at Beelzebub slightly offended. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I just haven’t felt the urgent need to go see it, that’s all. We’ve been so busy situating ourselves into a normal routine I just kinda keep forgetting to go that’s all,” Gabriel explained, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You sure you got all your memories back from the fly?” Beelzebub asked teasingly. 

Gabriel chuckled, “I sure hope so, that’d be a bit of a problem if I didn’t, don’t you think.”

“Certainly,” they laughed, stopping just in front of the doors before them. They smiled at the familiar pub, it brought back pleasant memories. It was the night they first admitted their feelings to one another and they had this place to thank for it. It was only right that they’d return. 

Beelzebub opened the door, holding it open for Gabriel to walk through, following just a few steps behind him. Instantly the owner recognized them. “Well if it isn’t you two Masons!” he said with a wide smile as Gabriel and Beelzebub approached the bar. “Been a long year, hasn’t it?” 

Gabriel and Beelzebub shared a glance with one another. “Most certainly,” Gabriel replied, smiling back at the owner. He looked around the room as Beelzebub stood beside him, spotting the jukebox that sat behind them shut off. “Is the jukebox no longer working?” Gabriel asked curiously.

“Oh, that old bloody thing? Actually, since the day you two showed up, it would only play ‘Everyday” by Buddy Holly, a lovely song I’ll tell ya, but hearin’ it every day on repeat can get a bit much. Never were able to fix it no matter how much we tried. A shame, the thing cost me a fortune,” the owner explained, shaking his head as he looked at the old jukebox. 

Gabriel hummed, coming to realize that his little miracle was the problem. “Mind if I take a look at it?” he asked.

The owner shrugged, “No harm in tryin’, but don’t feel bad if you’re unable to fix it. Nobody is.” 

Gabriel nodded before going over to the jukebox, plugging it into the wall, and letting the lights flash on. He moved around the machine as if to examine it and attempt to figure out a problem, but really he was only stalling time before he could perform a miracle, one small enough that it shouldn’t cause any alarm in Heaven– or so he hoped. After a minute or two of messing around with the back of the machine, he waved his fingers, and like magic, the machine was fixed, and instead of ‘Everyday’ playing ‘This Charming Man’ by The Smiths filled the surrounding speakers. Beelzebub watched Gabriel immensely amused by him and still charmed by his unique ways. 

The owner was stunned as his jukebox was brought to life. “You must be an angel of some sort ‘cause every time you’ve been in this pub something inexplicable happens,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Gabriel chuckled as he reapproached the bar, putting an arm around Beelzebub’s waist with a smile. “I don’t know what to say, Sir. Perhaps it’s just happenstance,” Gabriel shrugged, acting clueless to his own shenanigans. 

“Perhaps,” the owner repeated, “in any case, what can I get you, lads?” 

“Two beers,” Gabriel answered, having learned the name of the ‘intoxicating liquor’, “Ah, and a packet of crisps too.” Beelzebub smiled broadly, both amused at Gabriel’s attempt to sound British– without actually attempting the accent –and at the knowledge that he remembered that they enjoyed crisps. It was a nice, genuine gesture that they weren’t quite used to just yet. 

“Coming right up,” the owner said, grabbing the crisps and pushing them towards Beelzebub before pouring the two pints of beers and handing them to Gabriel. “Enjoy!” he exclaimed. 

“Thank you,” Gabriel said, hanging the man however much money was needed for the beer and snack. 

The owner shook his head. “On the house, for fixing my jukebox. Thank you, lad, it’s greatly appreciated.”

Gabriel smiled and offered a firm nod. “No worries at all, glad I could help,” he said before taking the beers and following behind Beelzebub to the booth they had sat at the last time they were here. They settled into their seats, enjoying the array of music that played over the speakers for them to listen to while they relished in each other's company. 

“You know, you should really try the beer this time. You might like it, Angel,” Beelzebub urged, nodding to the pint in front of them. “It’s not too bad once you get past the initial bitterness of it.”

Gabriel cringed at the thought but he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious to try. A year ago he wouldn’t have imagined liking hot chocolate, or reading, or sleeping but times change. Perhaps alcohol was worth a shot too. He shrugged, “I suppose.” He grabbed the glass in front of him and brought it to his lips to take a sip, Beelzebub watching him intently. He took a sip only to struggle to swallow it afterward, feeling a shiver crawl down his spine which he didn’t even know was possible. “Oh God, that’s horrific!” he exclaimed. “How can you, or anyone for that matter, drink that?”

Beelzebub laughed in amusement. “Oh it’s not that bad,” Beelzebub replied, “you’re just being dramatic. Maybe wine is more your thing.” 

Gabriel groveled at the idea of having to try something new again. “No, I think I’ll pass. I’ll stick with my hot chocolate for now, thank you,” he said sardonically. 

“Oh well, more for me then,” Beelzebub said, finishing their own pint in two large gulps and then grabbing Gabriel’s glass, intending to do the same. Gabriel grabbed at their hand before they could have another sip. 

“Ah ah, pace yourself, we don’t want the humans here to question our actions,” Gabriel explained. 

Beelzebub scoffed, “Oh please, they’ve been questioning our actions ever since you magically fixed the jukebox. Look,” the nodded to the surrounding guests. ‘Everyday’ had just started to play on the jukebox and a collective groan was shared throughout the establishment, though at least this time it shouldn’t play on repeat. 

Gabriel sighed gently before chuckling, unable to hold in his amusement any longer. “Oh well, fine, do whatever you please, just please don’t make me have to drag you back him,” he begged. Gabriel had never been drunk, though he knew about it only because of surrounding humans on his prior visits to Earth when he resided in Heaven.

“No need to worry, Angel, this demon can handle their liquor, believe me,” Beelzebub said, cracking open the packet of crisps and munching on a few of them. 

Needless to say, an hour later and two more beers in Beelzebub’s system, without a bottle to refill the beer in Beelzebub’s system with– and with the lack of attention they were attempting to get from the use of miracles –Gabriel had to carry Beelzebub back to their flat on his back, holding their legs securely around his waist as Beelzebub wrapped their arms around his neck for support. 

“Y’know, Gabe,” Beelzebub mumbled, their words ever so slurred, “I love you so much. I’m so glad we–” they hiccuped “--continued to have meeting despite being enemies. I don’t know what I’d do without you, well, besides rot in Hell, I guess.” Though their words made sense, Gabriel was still ever so amused at their slurred speech and unusually common sappiness. 

He could only reply with a simple, but heartfelt, “I love you too, Little Bee,” as he got out the key to open their flat door and prepare to aid his drunk partner.

[rabbitcruiser]

Public Art in Calgary (No. 4)

In Search of Gold Mountain (2000) by Chu Honsun

This five-tier stone sculpture chronicles the history of Chinese people in Canada and offers a serene focal point within Sien Lok Park beside the Bow River. The name, In Search of Gold Mountain, evokes the dreams of prospectors who arrived by boat in 1858, lured by the promise of gold in the Fraser River Valley. But the phrase can also be read more broadly as the quest for a better life.

The story is told in stylized images carved into the surface of three of the bands. The figures appear as polished shapes set in relief against a shallow background of pitted texture. In the lowest ring, the ship lands and the first generation sets to work logging, mining and building the railway. Their hard labour lays a foundation for successive generations. More educated and established, the figures in the next ring endure the restrictions of Canadian immigration legislation, the only laws in our history to limit immigration based on race and country of origin. The head tax and Exclusion Act are indicated simply with dates and names.

In the upper level, images of tai chi, dragon dancing and acupuncture represent a time when cultural expression is allowed. The tip of the cone is embellished with rows of small, raised knobs, akin to those on early Chinese bronze bells. The reference is a reminder of ancient Chinese culture and places the Canadian experience in perspective within an extensive timeframe.

Artist Chu Honsun (the artist’s name follows the Chinese custom of family name before given name) has a home studio out near Cochrane, where his sculptures are displayed in a field set against the backdrop of the foothills. Walking among them, he explained his admiration for the sculptors Henry Moore and Constantin Brancusi. “I like sculpture that is powerful, simple, strong and bold, without anything unnecessary,” Chu said. The same could be said of his work.

At the core of Chu’s art is an examination of the relationship between yin and yang. It is quite astonishing that an artist could use an uncompromising medium with such precision to convey a spirit of balance, but Chu certainly understands stone. After graduating from the University of Hong Kong in 1975, the Italian government offered him a scholarship to study art in Florence and Carrara where he learned from the master marble carvers. Well-respected in Hong Kong, where he has major works in public outdoor spaces and at the opera house, Chu came to live in Calgary in 1991 and moved to Cochrane in 2005.

In Search of Gold Mountain has been in its current spot since 2000. Many factors contribute to its enduring success: thoughtful design, pure geometric form and harmonious proportions, enduring and beautiful material (15 tonnes of distinctive yellow granite brought in from China) and content that continues to be relevant to Calgarians.

Source

[paracosm-draw]

🎁 for the drabble ask :)

🎁 - Present

_____________

The first time Alec sees it, he's thirteen.

He's not supposed to be on the crypt and he knows very well that if an adult catches him in here, he will be grounded for the rest of the week. So he holds his breath and tries to be as quiet as possible while stepping into the darkness of the room.

Jace has to be hidding there. He searched all the other rooms in the Institute, all their secret hiding places, and found nothing.

Knowing Jace's tendency not to take no for an answer and his absolute love for forbidden things, Alec wouldn't be surprised to find him crouching behind a grave, ready to freak the fuck out of him.

"Jace...?" He calls softly, and his voice echoes lightly on the marble walls around him.

The place is cold, silent. The atmosphere feels special, as if time were suspended, and it makes Alec feel very aware that his presence here is not required.

When he moves further to explore the crypt , all he can hear is the muffled sound of his leather boots on the ground. If Jace is in here, he must be very careful not to betray himself with the sound of his breathing.

Alec goes around every tomb, searches behind every pillar but there's no sight of his adoptive brother. But the young nephilim is not one to give up easily.

There's one more room to search.

When Alec enters this one, he can put his stele away because of the pale light filtering through the small window carved in the roof. His eyes wander over his surroundings before widening suddenly.

There's nothing else in the room than a human-size statue bathing in the cold light. Particles of dust are moving lazily from the opening, forming a glittering halo around his head.

Alec's feet move on their own as he approaches the pale figure. The statue represents a tall and slim man with delicate asian features. His head is tilted forward and his eyes are closed. He's sculpted into the purest white marble the boy has ever seen, with an astonishing level of precision.

Alec's eyes run over the delicate edges of his neck, the strands of hair that seem frozen in motion falling on his forehead, the details of his eyelashes brushing his cheekbones, the perfect curve of his lips. One of his hands is resting on his heart, his long slender fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if in pain. The other hangs at his side, cut off in its movement. He wears a lot of jewellery, which the sculptor has honoured perfectly.

Alec raises his hand hesitantly, looks around, then gently brushes the statue's jaw with his fingertips. It's cold and smooth and Alec can't help but press his entire warm palm against the stone, cupping the man's cheek and scrutinizing his expression, trying to see something beyond the surface.

"You're so beautiful. Why do you look so sad..? He wonders for himself in the silence of the room. And who are you ?"

Since that moment, the statue becomes his most precious secret. He hasn't told anyone about it, not even Jace.

He tries to visit him at least once a day. Most of the time he has to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night.

When he's there, he sits at his feet and tells hims about his day, or reads out loud the books he has to study. Sometimes he wonders aloud about his identity, hoping to hear a voice answer to his questions, but the statue always remains still and silent.

But Alec is not discouraged. He reads all the books in the library and spends whole nights looking for answers.

Little by little, he falls into obsession.

Visiting the beautiful stranger once a day is no longer enough. He takes every spare moment to disappear into the crypt, makes up lame excuses for not going out with his friends and starts arriving late for training.

And this lasts until he's seventeen. It's a miracle he's kept it a secret so far.

Jace's his parabatai now, he has to be careful. For the feelings that have blossomed in his chest over the years are now those of a teenager madly in love, as strange as it may sound.

If anybody knew that he was desperately in love with a person made of stone, he would be good for a one-way trip to the Silent Brothers. No one could ever understand.

Magnus - he had finally found his name after cleaning the dirt on the stand - was his refuge. He could share with him his most secret thoughts and not feel judged. He was the only one with whom he could relieve the pressure imposed by his parents and by the Clave to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier, the perfect future leader. But above all, it was the only place where he did not feel ashamed of being who he was. Of loving a boy without being treated as different and worthless.

That's why today, today's a big day for Alec.

Today he comes to the crypt with a gift. And a promise.

" Hello, Magnus." He smiles happily while entering the room, fingers fidgeting nervously in his pocket.

He places a light kiss on the man's cold cheek and steps away to give him a sharp look. Magnus looks so real that sometimes Alec thinks he's just gonna wake up, smile and thanks him for being so patient.

But it never happens.

And tonight is the last night they're gonna spend together because tomorrow at dawn, Alec is leaving to the Mumbai Institute to complete is compulsory year abroad.

He already misses Magnus. One year is so long. What if Magnus is not there anymore when he retuns ? That's its worst fear.

He tries to shake off the anguish that is knotting around his insides and pulls something out of the pocket of his holey sweater.

"I've got something for you. A present. So that you don't forget me."

There is a small green satin bag in his palm when he opens his hand. He opens it with trembling fingers and takes away a silver ringed-shaped object, a little bit bumpy around the edges, with a black stone roughly attached to the top.

"It's not as pretty as your other jewellery, I know... I made it myself but, uh... Izzy is the talented one in this domain." He explains with an apologetic smile.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. It means I won't be able to see you for a long time, so..."

He takes Magnus petrified hand on his own and looks at his beautiful face.

"I might have access to new informations there. I promise you that when I come back, I'll have found a way to wake you up and then I'll marry you. I don't care about what the Clave might say, I- I love you, Magnus. Please, wait for me." He whispers, and then put the ring on one of Magnus' finger, heart hammering in his chest.

He doesn't care if he looks like a fool, only he knows where his heart lies, and it's in Magnus' palms. It's all he can think about when he stands up on tiptoe to gently press his lips to the statue's cold, hard ones.

A few hours later, he sets foot at the Mumbai Institute with a heavy heart, but ready to explore new horizons. Who knew what he could discover in here ?

----

The first rays of dawn break through the crypt window when Magnus opens his eyes. He's been asleep for a hundred years but he doesn't know that, as it seems like yesterday that the spell petrified him. It's been dark since then.

He takes a step forward and lifts his face into the warm morning light. His skin has regained the colour and warmth of life, he can feel, and hear, and see again. He can feel the cold ground against is bare feet, he can hear his own breath, the sound of fabric against his skin. He can see the place where he's been locked up for so long.

He takes a long breath.

How ?

As far as he can see he's alone in here.

And then a glimpse catches his eyes. That's when he notices it. The ring that stands out from the rest by its imperfection.

He's sure it doesn't belong to him. That means somebody came here and saw him and cared enough to gift him something.

It certainely is one solid lead.

He cannot wait to meet them.

[leehallfae]

“there is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain… you were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment. ‘the most demanding part of living a lifetime as an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself to work steadfastly along the nerve of one’s own most intimate sensitivity.’ anne truitt, the sculptor, said this. thoreau said it another war: know your own bone. ‘pursue it, keep up with, circle round and round your life… know your own bone: gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw at it still.’”

— annie dillard, the writing life

[teriwrites]

EXCERPT OF CHAPTER 2: THE RAVEN'S CALL

There was a man standing in the faerie ring.

“Well, hello,” he said calmly and politely, with a cheery smile.

Winnie shrieked and leapt back, nearly tumbling back into Alder Creek. She maintained her balance, but her composure was lost, all wide eyes and wider mouth as she processed the sight before her.

Winnie would’ve started in surprise at any man suddenly appearing perfectly centered in the faerie ring, if only because she’d been sure that she was alone within the grove. But this man in particular was especially astonishing because, from a mop of curls on his head to his bare feet in the grass and every thread stitched into his clothes, he was entirely golden.

It seemed ridiculous to think of a man being made out of gold, but there he was. He shone violently in the sun, every feature aligned in a uniformly aureate complexion.

“My dear, who might you be?” he asked, his smile widening.

Purely out of her own shock, Winnie might have answered him. But before she could do so, she happened to meet his eyes. They, too, were entirely golden, lacking white, or pupil, or iris. Something about the emptiness of his gaze snapped her back to herself.

“You may call me a friend.”

If the golden man was irritated by this, he didn’t show it. Rather, amusement flickered across his face. “All right, then, friend. What is it that brings you here?”

Winnie clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one alive could recreate this man. No artist, or sculptor, or hooligan with a pail of golden paint. He wasn’t a man at all, but fae, and the similarities they shared made him only the more disturbing. If he had the look of a man, his features might have been fine. But as they were, Winnie had to repress a shudder whenever she looked at him.

“I’m looking for someone who passed this way,” she said, hoping it was a vague enough reason to escape his suspicion.

It wouldn’t do to outright accuse a fae of theft; stories told of their easily injured pride. And if this golden man was real, Winnie realized with a start that she no longer had reason to doubt the other tales Bildenbey passed along through their folklore. She disguised the following shudder as a shiver from the cold.

The golden man tapped his chin with one finger. “You know, friend, there was a little one, not too long ago. Unfortunately, I think he’s a little hard to reach just now.”

Winnie had to take a step back to keep herself from lunging into the faerie ring and strangle him where he stood.

“You took him, then.” She couldn’t keep the growl out of her tone, the rush of confirmation making her bold. “Give him back.”

The golden man snarled, his features twisting and contorting until they’d left any cosmetic humanity behind. When he spoke, the ground rumbled with the weight of his offense. “I am no thief.”

“But you know who did it. Another friend of yours?”

“I do not associate with the likes of those who stoop to stealing children.” In a moment, his expression had reverted to its seemingly perpetual smirk. “Though oddly enough, I do happen to have a passing acquaintance with them. And better, a strong desire to see them ruined.”

“And why is that better?” Winnie sneered.

The golden man leaned so far forwards that she was convinced he would tumble out of the fairy ring. As his balance held, his smile grew warmer, radiating, smothering.

“Because, my dear, it seems our interests align.”

[xserpx]

Leo dan Brock had been a pleasing diversion. From the neck down, he was astonishing. When she opened his shirt, she had spent a moment just staring. It was as if he was carved from flesh-coloured marble by a sculptor intent on exaggeration. There had been a moment when he lifted her clean off her feet so effortlessly, it felt as if she might never come down…

But in the end, what truly makes a man is above the neck. The instant she made a joke, Orso would have pounced upon it, unfolded and developed it, tossed it back delightfully changed. Leo scarcely realised a joke had been made.

— A Little Hatred by Joe Abercrombie

If his mother could’ve packed his head in a box but left the rest of him available, it would’ve suited Rikke just fine, but he probably didn’t want to hear that.

[livingingloworld]

June 15th, 2024

Today was absolutely breathtaking. I started off my day with a short run around the park near the hotel and I’ve realized London has a huge running community because ever time I go out for a run there’s at least 10-15 others running around with me. After my run I headed to the bloom cafe with my group and enjoyed a hot caramel latte before we departing to Westminster Abbey. We took a 20 min train ride over to meet our tour guy who gave us an informal breakdown of the history of influential monarchs and the buildings we were surrounded by. One fact that I found really intriguing during the tour was the fact that the beheaded statue of Charles I (who was the first and only monarch to be executed) is facing the statue of Oliver Cromwell, who was extremely against his narrative and ultimately killed him. After our tour went into Westminster Abbey where I was absolutely astonished by the interior architecture, paintings and dawning stained glass that covered the walls of every room I walked into. It was honestly the strangest feeling walking through the halls of the cathedral because the floors are lined with tombs of the most influential figures in European history such as Steven Hawkings , Albert Einstein, and Sir Issac Newton which funny enough I walked over his grave without any recollection of it. It’s so interesting how Westminster Abbey is both a place of worship and mourning all in the same since it’s a memorial for the most influential. Once our tour at Westminster Abbey was over we had about an hour before our next tour so we are dispersed for lunch and my group headed to cafe fresco for some paninis and coffee which is where we assumed all the food poisoning amongst our group started😹. After lunch and a fascinating conversation with Ivo we headed towards the parliament to begin our second tour. Touring the British Parliament was my favorite tour by far as there was so much history inscribed in each painting, artifact and especially in the interior architecture. Far more than my current understanding could digest in that very moment. I was so star struck to see everything I’ve learned in textbooks of AP Euro, from learning about Queen Victoria, the reign of King Charles I, to the staff used during meetings in the Parliament to actually see these paintings and artifacts in person was so surreal to me. I would say by far my favorite part of the Parliament of the massive statue of Queen Victoria and learning that Queen Victoria had a double chin but requested the sculptor to leave it out of representation which was quite interesting to me because it made me wonder how many of these paintings/sculptures truly represent the true physicality of these monarchs. Following the tours we were set free to enjoy the rest of evening and my group walked down to the St. James park where we took beautiful pictures of the community garden, majestic swans swimming in the pond, and the absolutely beautiful scenery the park encapsulated. After the park we headed back to the hotel to end our night with pizza and coffee at blooms cafe💫.

[therefpoint]

• Maison Margiela Artisanal 2024 Collection by John Galliano, Look 1.

• Young Couple Wearing a Two-in-One Suit at the Bal de la Montagne Sainte-Geneviève by Brassaï, 1931.

• Mr Pearl by Photographer (Maybe Adrian Green)

Brassaï was a Hungarian-French photographer, sculptor, writer and filmmaker who gained international attention in the 20th century for his black and white street photography, he captured the alluring and mysterious streets and underbelly of Paris with his voyeuristic approach.

In 1933 Brassaï published a book of his nocturnal photographs of the dimly lit Parisian streets titled ‘Paris de Nuit’ (Paris at Night), he would stroll the streets visiting cafés, bars, dance halls, opium dens and bordellos photographing those on the fringes of society, such as transvestites, gay couples, prostitutes, madams and Parisian lower class. The book was very successful and helped launched his career in photography.

When Brassaï attended one of the large balls held in Paris in 1931, he noticed a diverse crowd of every class, race and age. That night he photographed a gay couple at the event. He wrote about the occasion, “Every entrance and every costume gave rise to shrieks of surprise, cries of astonishment, of joy. . . . Two young men wrapped in each other’s arms had to demonstrate the perfect union of their souls, their bodies-dressed in a singlesuit: one was wearing the jacket, with his legs and buttocks naked; the other wore the pants, his torso and feet bare, since he had given his boyfriend the only pair of shoes.". There is a resemblance to the style and look in the Maison Margiela 2024 show when fashion model Leon Dame came out posing and featuring Look 1 of the collection.

Mark Erskine-Pullin famously known as Mr. Pearl is what one could say is a 21st century genius, he was a committed corsetier training his waist down to 18 inches, not only did he wear corsets but he became a sought-after corset maker working with fashion designers such as Alexander McQueen, Christian Lacroix, Thierry Mugler and John Galliano. From conception to materialisation, a Mr Pearl piece can take months of hard work and craftsmanship. No wonder he became an eternal reference for designers today, especially Galliano having worked with him previously. The inspiration is apparent in the look that first walks out on the runway of the Maison Margiela 2024 show, featuring the model wearing a white boned corset and black trousers baring similarities to a photograph of Mr Pearl and his extremely small waist.

Follow and keep your notifications on for more posts on this current Margiela collection and other runway, art, film and media references!

Sources:

Maison Margiela 2024 Collection Look 1 image: https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-2024-couture/maison-martin-margiela

Brassaï photograph of a homosexual couple image: https://www.vintag.es/2021/07/one-suit-for-two.html?m=1

Mr Pearl image: https://www.per-spex.com/articles/2019/6/7/mr-pearl-and-the-history-of-corsetry

[oletusfragments]

🎁: A gift from pretty little liar, to a female hunter. A beautiful handmade Batik dress, a symbol of the sender's country, Indonesia. The patterns portrays the beautiful flora of Indonesia, with the pattern of a Cenderawasih, a beautiful bird of paradise native to Indonesia, at the skirt part of the dress. Along with the dress, the sender has also sent a box of golden jewelry that compliments the dress, consisting of the necklace, earrings, bracelets, a headpiece, and a brooch.

🔔 — THIS GIFT REASONATED WITH...

It's quite rare for the sculptor to be seen mesmerized by something other than her own works. Galatea's eyes sparkle as she raises the dress in front of her while she is sitting on her wheelchair. The smell of wax fills her nostrils and her eyes scan the intricate patterns embedded in the dense fabric.

The more she gaze at your impressive craftsmanship, the more her curiosity grows, and her gratitude heightens. She's heard the process done to make batik arts. How much effort did you put into this? And you were willing to give this as a gift?

Receiving a dress like this from a foreign culture, she is definitely surprised. Galatea has her fair share of knowledge about the arts of the world, she has seen some art exhibits about other cultures and she was also introduced to them when she was still an art student. But she never expected that she would receive one and you'd also give her accessories to complete the whole look.

To be given a work of art such as this as a present, and the amount of effort you've put into this, Galatea is greatly honored. She's definitely taking good care of this dress and the headpiece and accessories that came with it. She will wear it for you, and may or may not be because she wants to show it off to others.

— A letter from Galatea! 📨

Dear pretty little liar,

Thank you truly for this gift. You don't know how astonished I was when I received it. It's perfect. I can see the amount of work you've put into making this. I haven't worn it yet though, not yet. It's a really extravagant dress in my opinion. I want to wear it on a day that's more special than any other.

Do you have more of these? No, I'm not asking to be given more. Although I won't mind seeing more of your work and arts from your culture. I was wondering if you do have one, can you wear it? And then come to me. You will be my muse for my next masterpiece. Do you accept?

I await for your reply,

Galatea Claude

[the gif's quality looks low 🛌. I remember batik arts was one of our art class topics when I was in junior high school. I hope I wrote it right! And you are so cool for this ;0]

[moonlight-eternal]

⏳

Most churches in Anor Londo are multipurpose. The gods live amongst the people, and there are many, each with their ways of worship: the Lord of Sunlight may be honored at noon, and his daughter the Darkmoon may receive prayer at midnight, and there is no conflict. It is efficient, the architects and sculptors said, carving many statues back to back upon a rotating dais – and in Anor Londo's prevailing style, it would have brought riots to demand they build new temples for each and every god.

Still, there are themes. A church for Gwyneth and Gwyndolin, or one for their cousins Velka, Fina, and Flann. A church for the brothers Vamos and McLoyf. Later, after the Chaos took Izalith, churches for the newly elevated Gwynevere alongside Gwyndolin, or even the two together with Gwyneth – for as much as Lord Gwyn did wish his son expunged from history and memory for his deadly failures, his own sacrifice came soon after, and the God of War's disciples would not readily forsake their patron.

And within each house of worship, at the chancel sides behind the speaker's stand, chairs sit reserved for no mortal to rest upon: positions for the gods themselves, should they wish to receive prayers in person. Even the most devout, the most frequent visitors to their favored shrine, can only seldom claim to have seen one appear.

Except, at one small parish devoted to Gwyn's three holy children deep in Lower Anor Londo, where the rooftops and flying buttresses soar a thousand feet above and the sunlight only cuts down the narrow streets for a few minutes each day of perfect alignment... at night, almost every night, Gwyndolin sits and listens to the singing. The cantor is skilled, and the congregation are... well, their voices are enthusiastic, and heartfelt, and that is enough.

Gwyndolin still remembers the first time she was seen in this place. Not the first time she came to this church, for she visited on many nights outside of service hours, just to think, and to be at peace away from the demands and responsibilities above. Sometimes, she still does. But the first time she was discovered...

It was a caretaker who found her, not a priest. An old man, come to clean and dust in the hours when no crowds trod the marble floor, who happened upon her and cried out at what he mistook to be an interloper in the goddess's space. Only a moment later, as Gwyndolin stirred from her contemplation and he saw the snakes coiled beneath the chair, did his indignation turn to astonishment, and respect.

They spoke long hours, until the first glimmer of light shone through the stained glass above. And at the following service, for the first time in decades, the caretaker was seen amongst the crowd. For the first time as well, Gwyndolin appeared in view of all, and endured the whispers and enjoyed the songs.

And in time, the whispers lessened, while the songs became only ever more joyous. Even as waves of exodus thinned the group – first Fina's departure, then McLoyf's, then Gwynevere and Flann's – some always remained. Some always chose to stay with the one goddess who was never personable or charismatic, the one who by her very domain stays to the shadows and the night, who brings hope through the most desperate of times.

Gwyndolin's followers are few, it is rightly said, but their tasks are of vital importance. Some are tasked with hunting the enemies of the Lords, and keeping justice through the city and the lands beyond. But some are tasked only with singing, and being seen amidst a crowd, and being the life that remains, however faint, in Anor Londo's darkened streets.

Some throughout the centuries are tasked with the most vital job of all: that of keeping their goddess sane.